Purple

I will not drink your syrupy drops alone
I spread myself across six seas intact
I survey the earth (and my humid nocturnal brother
guards me in his sweet brine) an eel
slimed with poisonous blood and supple spine
I never wait for holy doors to open here below
for a crumb of comfort, a quarter of a work table
paid vacation or tickets for a restaurant
I slip across thick antediluvian silt I thread and undo
and rejoin myself at once
before the turbines shred me
this cold supports me fresh and slippery
a few seaweeds and fresh air
sometimes I leap from water to sky
and write just enough
white on paper
I do not excuse do not forgive
now
this is what I remember
from a thousand years before