Ginger Ale
About to fold my sail, the eastwind from the north
came and swept my ship into a dusty bluff.
I howled like a steed fleeing without its missing leg,
plunged like gold coins into a salty well
into the great wheezing sea.
A delirium sunk me further until the sun
was but a wink and the wind a whisper.
I closed my eyes for the tides would surely
bring me once again to surface.
The winking sun became a heavenly stare
the winds a chorale and the tides a thousand hands
snapping me from a delirious stasis
I took a breath and inhaled the whole world and all the suns.
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