Sea Turtle, Part III

III

I wake in brilliance.
The moving light filters down
in fragments:
pink
and yellow
red
and orange
gold
rimmed in blue.
The clouds scud by
and birds fly
overhead.
The birds do not worry me
unless the black lines of their bodies
are wider than my arms.

A thousand, thousand, thousand
mornings
thus.

My waters are deeper now.
See?
My home is there, under the
rocky ledge.
No, there. The opening is concealed
by rocks and seagrass.
Yes, it looks scary, and dark.
But the Octopus also lives there.

I know, you said to be wary.
But she is not interested in me anymore.
Not in any bad way, I mean.
I am too big now.
She watches my door
and I bring her presents in return:
a sparkling stone,
a golden ring,
a pearl.

I explore all day
swimming in this amniotic
fluid called life.

The currents that scared me
no longer frighten me now.
They take me to other places
deep and dark,
light and clear.
Under the moon, I surface
to kiss her face.
She is closer in the water
than in the air. I feel her glow
on my skin.

I tell her about my days.
She tells me about the sky.
I see everything, I say.
You know nothing, she says.
We laugh.

A thousand, thousand, thousand
nights
thus.

I still miss you, but she
will not tell me where you are,
where you went,
or why.

I still miss you.