On the warm sand, body softens against the skin of the earth

In the clouds I see a pattern of ribs, fragile as my own

As the universe fills lungs with salt air, cirrus collapses

Becomes seaweed, mirrored, tossed in the sea above

Below, the breeze licks around the silver fronds of salt grass that whisper:

Where did you go, girl?

All you had to do was lie face to it all, say a prayer to the salt gods,

And return.