The Reaching

Last night I dreamed of
the perfect house, set cozy
under palms stretching out
to the sea from the land,
surrounded
by by the big, big blue but
                     the ocean,
                                    the ocean kept eating
the house

each devouring spray
washing over its being. And I
could not settle. I wanted to live
there, in the house, by the ocean,
in the sun. I wanted to live
there,
               without drowning.
                                    But I felt the sliding

screaming slipping gasping despair,

the deep, deep wanting
and the knowing of not having.
I stayed in this washing despair,
letting the ocean eat the house while I screamed.
And when I awoke
I did not know if
I was myself
                     or the house
                                    or the ocean.