salt, 2

out of the dark I am come
with the sea to drown
hell. out of the light with
a conflagration to burn
paradise. it is in the breath
that I have loved you
in the layer between in
and out. we speak too
much of beginnings and 
endings while the birds
circle; we think we are going 
somewhere impossibly
small and distant as the 
head of a pin while the seasons move
back and forth among
leafed and barren bodies.
you speak the first syllable
which is O, the letter with
no end. when I put my tongue
upon your breast the O
repeats itself when I impress
my forefinger on a still
pond or a navel the O repeats 
itself when the eye of the dawn
opens on your forehead or
between your heart’s valve 
or in the crucible of the groin
the O repeats itself. the other letters
are broken ships but for you
for I the sea stands between 
heaven and earth, emptying itself out
filling itself up. it is no wonder
why weeping feels
endless and full of salt
no wonder that lovemaking
feels the same.