Sad Vessels

Do we dream of dolphins and whales,
before language,
in the liquid darkness
of our first world,
joined in community
more intimate
than any lover's kiss
in the bright air
of our long
waterless exile?

We retreat
from gravity's architecture
into houses of living skin,
sad vessels,
that can not make way
close enough to the wind
to feel the exhale of a heartbeat
inside a flooding tide
rushing back
to the open sea.