The one who knocks

As though that which is non negotiable might
consecrate the distance
              between your monsoon balcony
& the long way back
                              across the sand
Flicker of wings maybe
              seashells & eye shadow
if only to articulate the damp strings
& suicide drumroll
              & when they fish you out it’ll be like Christmas
in August
                              as you may hear yourself whisper
the air shaped by eucalyptus leaves the color of
gunmetal pearls
              if there was any other way to say it
the blue girl with the orange lipstick
                              lit from the inside like a japanese lantern
so that the fog seems to genuflect
              on the concrete steps above the beach
& I got there first
the light just easing in thru the mist
                              like the powder in my veins