Boatsong in the undervault:
Draped paths, small mountains
of language. Replica dwells
as a dwelling. Curated stony dark,
open and breathless. A slab
for rest. A plaque. Neither
animal nor human animal,
ever. Not once. Lights fade
in passing. It, sung into being.

Outlasting intent.

Below, away,
the wave is cutting,
heals, cuts again.