In the other world, you wake—
spin out your limbstalks, sun-tough,
electric—arch and dive in, make

no silhouette, no pool cresp or quake
but skitter, polythene on the morning, enough
sinew for kitestring. You wake,

rise, and pad on cardish feet, take
this sun, its rusting blare, in lungs and gut,
trust in electricity, in circuitry, make

time to breathe salt, chlorinates, baked
fumes, compounded cigarette butts, sandal-dust,
this other world, its admonitions; wake

to international, transcendental white, hasty
builds scudded like shoreline bunkers, enough
piped electricity. Time spits, dives, makes

this floodlit no-place every city. Take
comfort in smashed ice, ethanol, refraction. Trust
in an other world—this volting wake,
your electricity, a pulse. Breathe, dive, vacate.