I.

I wish to be birthed
in reverse.

To recede in slow
motion

back into black
water,

to slide backwards
in a basket

towards the sea.

II.

To be blessed is to slip
without sense,

without sins,

away from this light,
this hum,

this holy hymn
so often sung, a song

that speaks of a new star,
bright born, that burns

with the pressure of sleep.

III.

I see shipwrecks.

Send me home.

Let my basket leak.