Swimming down to us
light years
not always a straight line
that was his joke, his night
fears, his pilgrim’s climb.
About half way
throwing his silver
suit away he
sees the green earth
click for the first time:
the lightest girl
the heaviest ocean
coming to themselves
and to his hand.
He sets a comradely couple walking
down his white road,
hospitable; hears a shiny
boy and girl, bird and bird
having a time
in his green water.
Clean against it all
one last hour
all alone the moon man’s
open everywhere:
This mass is his salt
his girl
his sky
his work
his floor.
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