A body washes ashore.
A body is washed
so entirely
that the lighthouse
is replaced by the body
that has been thrown
through centuries
of rock & faith
& small tragedy
to become affixed
as a new, naked star.
I was born in the fields
near no saltwater
& now, without knowing
more than her name
I am the coast 
crusted in her desire, hung
in that stasis where once 
light did the trick.