In the Time of Cicadas

In the time of the cicadas —
when the grunions swam circles in the sand —
I spied in the distance the waves
over your velvet brows.

I didn’t know it then: You were a glimmer
in the glimmering sea.
The water vast and beckoning
became the nighttime sky.
One million eyes gazed into a million suns.

Five summers before you lived,
there was that boy
entranced to breathe the breeze, to hear
elated shouts that pierced the droning tide
as children filled their pails
with a thousand sacrificial fish.

My body was the naked stones
the moon descended to caress.
The smiles and shoulders whispered
themselves unto unripened eyes.

In the blue-gray glow
a progeny dissolved amid the surf.
Sketched among the foam,
Your Face.

2014