Room by the Estuary

there’s always a boat going far away  watching you go
the other shore is going far away  the sky an inverted thesis
a river flows by between word and word
until when you are speechless  seagull semaphore is snow-white and rancid
ebb-tide  the moon is pulling the names of the drowned
fish overlook twilight  lighthouses fished from eye sockets
the mirror of every day fastens a wine-flavoured
upstream  darkness like a plate of seafood rushes against the tide

the ocean begins with a query  it asks  where
the room stands like a bird on the mast
an address of four drifting walls  playing the bridge’s string music
only water unmoving between finger and finger
what’s going far away is you  always further than far away
gazing after a poem  immersed in a body temperature colder and bluer
mists come  mists are night’s floodgate
you know with eyes closed that dawn is in the ocean