After Swimming Alone

From the chaos of primordial star-mix
or a paint bowl on a wheel
I have been flung
and landed without incident
below sharp grassed dunes
on this eastern facing shore

I lie in the severe September sun
south side of my body burning
the other in shade and chill
a Picasso woman, black
and white, divided

the sky stretches up to where the air stops
soft algae gathers in piles where the thick waves
have surrendered their sterile foam
I close my eyes and spin
the broken pieces out

When I rise I plant my feet
and root down, saying
Here’s a place I’d like to live