The Girl Is

The girl is a tomb.
You crawl inside her body
and shut the door.

How dark is it
in there, how deep?
with her heart pulsing
in the walls, a great
machine pumping
from distant parts.

She smells of a room
rarely opened to the wind,
to the delicate sun,
she smells of the sea
closed tight
in a child's jar
from the beach.

Come out, little boy,
come out whoever you are.

Climb inside
my body
and I will birth you
a miracle, like the sky
the sea.

I will give you
my heart, as it pounds
on the beach.