do you cry? which is you, which is sea?

THE UNIVERSE MAY STOP EXPANDING IN FIVE BILLION YEARS
at which point time will cease
to exist and i can finally stop
complaining.

apparently i’m the universe
observing itself but lately
i feel like a grub predating 
other grubs, like, i can’t look
in the mirror but i can stare
at the sun.

and i don’t know which is most me:
to be daughter or lover or god to dependent plants.

we’re too young 
to understand that we’re 
too young to understand. 
all of us, i mean.

Fifty-two blue
for a second imagine a different kind of wilderness.
cobalt mist sizzling through the full bare
whooshing currents light forever muddied
and everywhere refracted. another year then another
returned as the ghostly lone rumble on the hydrophones
no mechanical whir / soviet submarine just
you you, flying solo
come down again from the kodiak like a prophecy singing
that solitary hymn. there is no language for one. i’m
speaking directly to you now: we’ll bond over your
aloneness recognize our own bloodshot geyser-eyes
remembering all the poems we didn’t read to each other
and how many times we could have said love and blue whales
known for their strong and enormous hearts commonly
live in the wild one hundred years and sometimes at home
i worry about being misunderstood / my phone
is lighting up and i don’t answer / my ankles are soaked
and rusted anchors / i’m wondering if i’m better off dry
on the pavement muttering anyone anyone anyone waiting for
someone to coax the mutual song of being from my throat so
for a lifetime imagine a different kind of wilderness.