I cannot tell you the way the ocean sounds, but
it is not the the wind roaring in waves
or
the sunset over durham, north carolina 
because i fell asleep, in the back seat
 with a face burnt through the glass. 

a night blinks,
starless.
chattering and according.

in night, I listen to the freckles
across your face.

here I am again, touching an echo.

I want to hold you the way
the trees do, the leaves
fall to be
caught
by grass.

the way you blink
makes me miss the
eyelashes
which fell selfishly
for wishes--

--take them back