Elixir

Poseidon sends foam
lips to kiss my feet each time I visit.

The drops say: watch this! and proceed to grab
bits of stone, pebbles, boulders
when I don't notice
grind them every day
until I look up, or rather down
at the crumbs now sticking to my ankles
to be reminded by the rumbling voice
Here you are.

Sand is a liquid
he says
the elixir of memory
where else do you remember
the blinding glint
the scent of coconut and salt
your love's hand
clenching at the snap of a wave
when else do you face eternity
(he ignores Zeus and all the stars at night, of course
and Hades' freshly dug dirt)

He makes me smile when he talks that way
mouthy wet sand
memory sticking to my waist band
and irritating when least expected
but which, when finally washed clear
still returns
here you are