Long after you have swung back away from me
I think you are still with me:
you come in close to the shore on the tide and nudge me awake the way a boat adrift nudges the pier:
am I a pierhalf-in half-out of the water?
and in the pleasure of that communionI lose track,
the moon I watch goes down, the tide swings you away beforeI know I’m
alone again long since, mud sucking at gray and black timbers of me, a light growth of green dreams drying.