The Ocean

 

I put my back to it, push the boat onto the limestone-coloured sea,

where the water takes it onto its own shoulders and I,

with feet firmly dug into the ribs, can row into the eternal.

The sea slams against the hull with my every stroke:

the clockwork of the ocean, of the universe,

inseparable from my blood’s tides.

I trust its speech resounding in the hollowed chest beneath me;

I believe in the anointing of my face with brine;

I get the measure of myself from none but the ocean.