Swimming Surf Drive
In the morning the sea is nearly white
swallowed by sky
interrupted by the vineyard
I swim propelled by gasps and exhalations
my limbs tighten with cold
fighting seaweed with my feet
blinking against salt
Right elbows bend towards the line, imperceptible
on which whole ships teeter and disappear
Reaching forward to pull myself across the horizon
gathering fistfuls of day, hand over hand
with the cormorants watching
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