I need to explain: I once watched sea moss flower on the skin of a drowned sailor and within hours swell to the size of a human finger. I pulled his body from waves so white I could have carved them from wax, soft as bees. He looked like a candle without a flame— he looked like fire without ash. The whites of his eyes were black with flies— Let there be light. I need to explain: Since men first spoke of gravity, it’s slowly pushed our bones deeper into the soil. Since men first spoke of lightning, the sky’s become an archer. There is a faith beyond prayer: my enemy spoke of a bird asleep on his throat before opening his mouth to that white rush of waves, believing he would be turned into a tree by his grief. Down dropped his roots. A hundred birds fell into his branches.