I have a curled photograph With waves that crest behind you And your hair, golden veins, Tangled in the sun that caves, There you sit— my open secret, Atlantic, Frees my wrested heart At the fortress— Altar, Dún Aengus.
In that place, that wanting place, High— on the jagged edge I captured you, Your eyes were ocean, Atlantis, Never so deep, never so Lost.