​

The ocean is full

of teeth.

You are a mote

 

on the unblinking

horizon, easy

to lose in the dusk –

 

choose someone

who might notice if you raised

a hand while going

 

under. Not her, deep

in a beach read,

nor a walker with his dog.

 

A fishermen studies

the water’s

suck and thrust;

 

keep your distance

from his baits

bleeding a siren call.

 

This young family

is complete as a cup,

the father knee-deep

 

in the unspooling surf

as his skinny son

takes wave after wave

 

to his chest.

The mother holds

a toddler

 

but peels her eyes

for the boy

who fronts his limits

 

again and again.

You imagine yourself

anchored to them,

 

the line of sight

a filament vibrating.