then, hand in hand, we rise
up from the waves, following
venus’ foam, thinking that
it is a lifeline from the
sea;

we trail, together,
after the air of an
intangible being,
her foreign form
sinking when we press
and changing when we see,
slipping through our
knuckles and our ribs,
our arms in the scars
they leave;

then. hand in hand. we rise
up from the waves. following
our own beat. thinking that
if no one else will salvage for us,
we will.