A Vigor’s Waning

The plump green of drifting
life a salty blue swim
the old alchemy of sun into breath
on a sea’s skin
the first transubstantiation.

A wave’s forsaken now to
become an ocean’s ghost.
I am turned out.

Seaweed paled by a
Pacific sun crispy curling
ochre tendrils bound for white
dry on sand of conch pink.