Max Michelson

From “Winds of March”

I

I AM in your thin dark waters, night.

They reach up.

I splash and flounder.

I drown.

The waves separate, make way.

They touch playfully my shoulders.

They whisper gently.

The earth is melted.

I am vapor—

A wave of the waves.

I will rise with the wind.

The hunger of my heart

Is now a dusky hillock of vapor.

Night has blown

Her breath.