low drain tide—

that the beginning should go like this — how to cut a mother

language from your own tongue — or my own tongue

long-beaked birds needling the sea stitching in a fast wake

tide incoming in little rollers — long & heavy on the surface like

lazy potato beds in ridges & furrows the surfing app tells me — waves are on the horizon

the angel in the house I take only one meatball & leave

a bite uneaten on my plate I looked dreadful & you

were the only one looking — the water archeologically low

minus tide — high pressure — cold & bright — in the original

sense fathom meant the outstretched arms as unit of measurement

virginia woolf opens the second draft of the waves with

that the beginning shd go like this unchristened her secular godfather gave her

a silver posset dish & a bird in a cage — posset is delicious & a middle english

noun of uncertain origin — my mother tongue was hungry

by choice her whole life & she probably still is

the first thing that had to go —

sighing — sighs of frustration exhaustion pleasure sighs short & frequent

the stones on the stormbeach move with tidal action as the waves

do not reach them — fathom it fathom that the sigh of shingle & fizz

sighs of laundry & dirty dishes minus tide — cool & bright

at the wrong side of the tide — pages bent with damp

oh well whatever it was sexy as a cul-de-sac

that the beginning should go like this when you have a lot of stone

you build stone fences — solve for endings solve for endings

mire & mere — a low drain tide that’s for digging