The sun goes behind a cloud like a fever
breaking in the night. I float on my back in the cold
water, ears under, and hear my own breathing
like it is the whole world. Later, beachside, I hold

my palms cupped over my ears so I can swim
in the sunlight, the sound
of myself. On the beach we agree
the only reason we don’t build castles

is because we wouldn’t know where
to put them, how to handle that kind
of permanence. My dried saltwater hair
is strange, heavy, not quite mine.