LOW TIDE THE TIDE GOES OUT LEAVING TINY BOXES OF COPPER WIRE EACH READS A STORY FROM YOU TO ME, IN A POEM BETWEEN TWO DOORS WHEN OPENED, THEY UNRAVEL, FILLING THE BREATHLESS SPACE BETWEEN US UNCOILING METAL RINGS, I ATTACH ONE TO YOU, TO ME THROUGH WORDS AND WIRE WE SPAN THE DISTANCE ACROSS WAVES AND ROCKS, THE GLISTENING SUN STRIKES LIGHT AND SQUINTING, FROM AFAR, I SEE YOUR EMPTY LINES LIT, SPARKS OF WIRE, COPPER LINES RADIATE VIBRATIONS OF YOU, BURNT UP, IN ME I WATCH AND