I have given away the sea.
It once moved me.
Here, when I raise my arms,
I leave no shadow. I have
given away the light.
So there would be
nothing
left to take from me.
I have given away
my hair, the silk
from my head, the blonder
threads from my limbs, from
the pubis—I’m all skin
now. If I keep
this up to bone
there will be no dark
left in me. I
gave away the parts—the soul
rose: a cloud, a sorcerer.
I had no hands to grasp it.
And so it got away
before I could give it.
The shore is a desert now.
I gave away the sea.