We see the bend
and the gulls in full motion
outside our door.
We feel the moon in our mouths
and foolish dreams
drip down our inner thighs.
It’s time to relinquish
our boat on the ferry docks, relinquish
our dearest pet at the graveyard.
It’s time to know the yellow lands of late summer –
let the air into our home and let the lock
on this sanctuary be broken -
to open more than possibilities,
more than a Sunday-hope.
We see the bend and we say goodbye,
out of the funnel
and into the luminous sky.
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