And what if during the quiet times

you let the ocean settle and the waves flatten

like a slowly ironed sheet and you sliced through

the topmost layer where the warm part is,

your hands cupped for the sacrificial wine, parting

the water, the salty water of the earth and you were now a perfect

swimmer. Gliding through the water, those angelically cupped hands

pulling your body forward, feeling the current ripple under your belly

and the delicate strands of seaweed hair around your face.

For a moment you loved the ocean.