I’ll listen to what you’ve written
but not recreate

I’ll do-it-myself, let pages
sip on my letters

let every vowel stand out
as skyscraper lights.

When I sink to sleep
I’ll lock my dreams

in a wooden chest
retrieve them

when morning strolls in
fetch the fresh post.

I wonder if there is such a thing
as drowning beautifully

I want to consume you
like that ocean water

make what I have said
gush into your eyes.