reflecting off the sea as your eyes fill with salt.

This animal feeling comes in waves.
Swirls in the sea then rushes back again.
At times it pulls me so far all I can make out
is the image of a single man,
beckoning on the shore, and wearing nothing.
Yet as soon as the water stills
I only long to be in that storm again,
closer to drowning than rescue.
Embedded without chance of materialization,
pearls on the sandbed long after the oysters die.