Postcard To The Octopus

It is of utmost importance
that I come to see you. You are certainly
owed a visit, owed my eyes attentive to yours.
We two are trembling trees,
holistic practitioners of how girls
and creatures should hold their hands.
There are stripes in your skin,
fractiling on the surface, wrapping
bars around my wrists.
If you pressed down into the sand,
would you feel your own pulse, the
heartbeat of too much to breathe?