when the sea collapsed by my feet
with the sun at the zenith
I drowned into sand
pretending
to be a thousand year old
ambered nymph
or a Weston’s nude
voices of passersby shouted
dead
I found your name
whispered by an ashen spirit of a woman
made a wish to return
on the opposition
with the winter prayer for celestial sphere
only waves are invited only clouds
I want it all in the emptiness
like a dream within a dream
of six Russian dolls
I am July
awaken by the strokes of red paint
I bow with the sky
shapeshifting
divine