Sea

Not unlike Tantalus,
it recedes- my clinging 
fingers can't grasp the
only place humanity 
goes to-


the ephemeral sea,
miss gossamer floss 
of seafoam- god bless
her tumultuous spirit 
which exceeds me now.


Oh, not the embrace of her cool arms
to my forehead- not now,
she will not quelch the fever- she
makes her coo-cooing into my ear,
the salt on my tongue.


She is here, I am gone.