Dear P. III

Suddenly your face resembles mine, but
how fast the look is swallowed into the
celestial space and your face is yours again.
How terribly I want to inhabit your face,
to dive into its cells, to fold into your
gossamer skin.  How terribly I want to be
the side upon which you depend, the part that
is used to refer to you.  If you’d kiss me,
you’d know the slum of my skin, twisted with
weeds and wilderness, old skin that has tried
to fly but cannot get beyond dirt.  Look, there
it is again.  A look I know.  How quickly
it tangents like a small fish into the rock.
There are dangers in the sea.  I am the sea.