I’d like to be a warm blanket in the sun,
a soft sound on the beach
or a red umbrella, a
slippery raincoat, taut.
I would dance for me
before spinning around you
and we would bow to the universe,
sacrifice ourselves on the shore,
where twenty-five typhoons swept away tears
that blinding summer.
Like crystalline sap from the pine of four seasons
the channels between us
ebb and flow.