Once

I
Once, I knew a soul                                                                                                             
clothed with the body of a woman,                                     
infinite in moods as the sea.
                                                                                         
It was the spirit in that soul,
arranging itself like cold
Atlantic mist

from colliding atmospheres and moving
with ethereal sadness,
that finally depicted me.

II
Once, I felt: such intimacy
exposed the seething
addiction to being               

that once disturbed
by its own willingness,
flexed briefly,

like a pool-reflected image
that’s just been
stepped into.