My feet
Have been placed onto grains of an unfamiliar salt
That don’t sting— but salivate
For the step of your heel, and the kiss of your
Eyelashes that you wish on
Don’t dare to let it slip, or it won’t come true
Have you ever seen the animals when the moon is up?
Like the wind,
The fish do not sleep
And the fins that stretch
From the spine to your
Gaze,
Seem to reflect onto your chest
In the form of a beating drum.
