Song

(i)

This peninsula
where the river enters
where the earth disappears
where moths and fish gather at
the light, where we swim
into each other, braced
in the sea cradle
in the rock

where the song breaks, here
the rolling lull of tongue,
where the water curves back
into itself        and again
the salted liquid
                        draws
and sprays, so unlike
                        silence
where we sink in
where we make room


(ii)

Where there is
always a chance of being
misheard, like all things driven
through air        by wind
whole words might not reach
                their destination

Washed, still, dry and done with
our bodies, against
        the width of air
              alone with
our bodies, where

        Enclosed within-
our breath, to not
blow out candles
or feed fires