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You’re sitting here with us,
but you’re also out walking in a field at dawn.
You are yourself the animal we hunt
when you come with us on the hunt.
You’re in your body like a plant is solid in the ground,
yet you’re wind.
You’re the diver’s clothes lying empty on the beach.
You’re the fish.
In the ocean are many bright strands and
many dark strands
like veins that are seen when a wing is lifted up.
Your hidden self is blood in those,
those veins that are lute strings that make ocean music,
not the sad edge of surf,
but the sound of no shore.