Ultraviolet Light

Whenever I come home now there's sand in my pockets.
Sand lines my purse and sticks to my pens.
I live a hundred miles from the beach.
I get in the tub and find sand under my toenails.

Green forest and vineyards, grain and fruit orchards
sleeping peacefully under a snow-capped mountain.
Where is the ocean whose breath speckles me with salt?
Every footstep I take falls on a beach somewhere.

What we thought was daylight was only the moon reflected:
silver apples brighter than all of earth's gold.
My teeth rattle empty as water-worn pebbles.
Tide comes with the dawn and wipes me away.

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside