For the Body

sea-gate to ancient waters,
labyrinth of bones,
grave for the foundered ships
of memory, conduit
to the changing pressure
of tides, uneasy dust
of old stars

when at sundown the sea-gate
closes, when the moon's pull
weakens: be light and empty 
as driftwood a long time
on the beach, rise
like rain to the sun,
be vapor in the air

~ Jeanne Lohmann