. . . . .

You carry your reef regions across the season you know best. One body through another and one summer through one summer. Self-driven, the carrier of coral canters, bristles — bears arms at the peaceful population: droves of mosses, crouched lichens, snapped-apart thirst of twigs (the trees’ serfs).

Near the border, guards chew on tubers and project their mares on the one approaching. The coral-bearer shakes, arms bared and tips rooting as the vision demands, though it’s unclear who imagines whom (who sucks on whose shoots).

Near the border, signs in the grasses that only single species pass. No parasites, no tines or holdfasts.

Sloughed off, these earned reefs, the gift-fronds of another day-half: lighter now and fit for laughter.