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