A body undulates in the shallows,
glass hive prosperous with bones.
This is the way debts multiply:
one branch growing into a tree.
I too want to break with the past
without choking on its filaments.
But the throat is a white-lit tunnel,
silvery measure that drops into the bay.
What does a line etch beyond two
points? Blue beginning. Blue end.
In response to Via Negativa: Oligarch.