I live on the sea like the keeper of a lighthouse.

Only I allow the light in and watch its sweetness wanting

To feel what the sea feels against wind.

I am alone so much at times the seagull angers me with his

Complacency.  Beauty is not enough.  Sometimes a man comes

Up my stairs with the slow serious footsteps of Lorca’s

Song.  Sunlight only brightens his shadow.  What lightness

Is left of his youth plays in gold hair at his temples.

When he comes here I am happy not to be alone and we drink

Tequila.  I am a frightened bird like the ones I see at the

Marsh hiding in fallen tulles.  Try to relax—tequila burns

Its way down.  Hope for a melting—a letting go.  His hands

Are small waves—caressing and moving gently—never too

Much and not stopping.  I do not know exactly how our

Mouths come together or when I want more.  I have forgotten

That I am a frightened bird—I am an egret.  I unfold my

Long white wings and lift myself above the marsh—sunlight

Glints gold at his temples and I circle myself—he moves me

In waves until I break with a cry and I am over water

And water forms on my belly and comes out of me.