A path winds around the trunks of palmettos and oaks
in dark primordial air
I forget time
once the sea left shell and tabby
a hundred miles inland—
were we here when the sea was so near
I need clocks and compasses
to reckon how deep
when did we sex ourselves into lungs and thumbs—
before or after the land plants
in their multitudinous sexualities
also elongated their reach
how many thousand years ago
when was man when was woman child
an unfinished thought
when was that man that woman
who first set foot on the floor of the ocean
did they live in time
the earth ticks and delivers sunlight to other shores
but I my store-bought everything
my twenty-four hour internet
my sleepwalking my daydreaming
never do the math
better to think on the stinking marshes
the reptilian forking seaward creeks
the arabesques of aquatic fowl
the imported sand
no way can I gauge depth or breathe underwater
what volume of water is in this body
how much has it lost
how much daylight do I have left