foam with me now, oh bones,
where the lights hollow their skins
into dark sparks, marks
of being weaving their thinning fires
out of the webs of burning hours

wash with me now, oh bones,
where sands speak of serpent pins
among shadow homes, tones
of nothing creeping their thick whispers
between the coals buried in mire

for we are shared, we,
our blood born of gemini star, cold stones
going forth to our snows,
to our blue flames in hedgerows
where only the only air knows

and let us vanish,
you and I, hand in hand,
while the song of birds is bristling
beside the cliff, eyes taut to waves
that only wave, and wave,
and wave,
while our limbs blur into the beautiful
whose silence
spins this spiral ocean


(c) J. Celan Smith