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.