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The first ache of sunlight
washes the pale white skin
of my ass with warmth
with hope and tender solitude.

My feet are filthy with fine sand
as I step through the grasp of the icy Atlantic
foot by foot, twenty toes in unison

one heart above
beating firmly
with the conviction of the damned.

To the south, a speck --
a liner -- heads to Boston
where the seamen sing shantys
on the pristine decks of a battle ship.

To the north, a bell rings, and
the lobsterman laughs like charlie chaplin.

When a crab sidles by,
life stops
claws snap

my thumbs are opposable
my grip firm
my toes ache from the bitter bite of brutal april salt
the follicals on my spine scream and stand

every ounce of me
between my ears recites poetry
and announces to my soul:
This is the moment.

I dive through the gray wave
and lurk below the surface
in an agony of impending hypothermia
and despair.

I twirl my body
and dream of seals

Rise up from the shallow
and stand.

I turn away from the sea
and see the sun

Alone
I step forward.