The Impossible Orgasm of Sense

To Veronica

One can only truly hear
white water rolling
back black rocks
when the eyes are closed.

One can only smell the cedar
in the salt spray
when the sun glare takes away
the sumac and the sea roses.

One can only see the sea
as a fish would, in a world
without sound or fragrance—
the overlapping sheens, and not

what they seem to mean.
Immerse yourself in the cold brine.
The ocean is endless.
It stops at your skin.