Ferraria

The stones have shifted.
The ground gives as
everything you know to be solid
crumbles —
Ash and fire-
boil like a kettle-lid lifted off
And after, nothing resettles right.

A volcanic cove of geothermal heat—
peculiar,
to bathe in,
when expecting
a lick of saltwater over your feet
a wash upwards to shin, thigh
shivering in icy coldness until
you surrender,
submerge,
in churning
turquoise green, or
still, silent, sapphire where
black-pink fish
flit with spotlight swiftness,
like spiritual mermaid sisters
swimming in coral gardens
far below.

Slowly, ever so slowly,
slipping
succumbing
scalding
accepting

The water sears my body,
envelops like a warm embrace
stress unravels,
tension soothes away,

Upon the rocks,
in the crevices,
crawling hermit crabs
scuttle, peep —
pinch, snap toes.
A gnarled line dangles like a skipping rope
protection from the fierce
tide beyond and the cold wide open
—no thing will win over the ocean,
Its power to carry you.