Malpaisano

The snakes from the dream,

still braided together,

in the steam cloud

of your breath they nod off.

Did we sleep all night together,

skin to skin, naked in the sun,

sharks asleep inside a black wave.

But the eye disappears from the weeping verse—

the shortest line—

so many glass apples, and the time required to know

White feathers. White feathers.

Where an ocean used to sleep.