We drive till pavement cracks.
Far ocean rolls in black,
rhythmically raked by light-
house; fingernails furrow backs.
Breakers scoop out caves, salt-ground,
resound in the stomach of earth.
Fogbanks from up shore
bind our eyes: grains of mist settle
beneath lids. The brain inhales.
Signs only emerge when near enough to touch.
Unstable cliff. Might fall beyond the known,
to where a stretch of infinity
tempts our toes.
Take just one step. Go on.
We just shiver
in a backseat
and turn into one another.
A foghorn stirs unmarked wings
and roars its sorrow
into imperishable night.