But then the wave. I hurled my arms skyward,
Then seaward in the surge—translucent chill—
To freeze inside a silent wall of salt:
Suspended in the membrane, I could spy
The sculpted rocks gripping a slippery shore
And, pulverized, the ancient shallow-stones.
Beyond them lay my bed; and, like a child
That struggles through its afterbirth, I cried.
(1988)