our Martinique, risen still, has yet and reasoned: spill / an entangled vignette of Julien Creuzet's gravitational refrainCamille G. Bacon

An infinite downpour falls before me,
a shield as I unsheathe my depth
to become one with it.
Submerged within, we hold one another.

Gliding off edges of slick palm fronds,
pelting the dark ground below us,
I am washed ‘til I transform into it,
moved with the same velocity
the same force
the same ability to cover everything.
To envelop.

Saplings draped in siren songs
usher us to our source.
This force, this everything
froths and flusters around us
into a soft curtain.
A swell that ends as abruptly
as it begins.

I have come within inches or less
of drowning before,
of existing in realms beyond
this one we know and trust
despite its (echoing and resonant)

Every second of my breathing
works toward floating better.
Encasing myself in more ease.
I wish to be of water,
for it is the meaning of my name.

As orbiting bodies reach points of closest encounter.
As listening transmutes frequencies to languages of love.
Particles meet waves, forming prayers.
Breathing underwater,
may we discover the depths of heaven.

May we hear the sea.