Would You Trade Your Life To Live There?

The days at Sopelana unroll like bolts
     of cinnamon cloth, warm weaves
     of red wine and perfumed skin.
The sun paints her people with amber oil.
Roses grasp the iron gates.

We walk slowly down to the water,
     down the steps of turquoise moss.
Lizards dance into the secret mouths of stone.
The sea below us pulses its sun-alive heart
     towards our bodies, a marine wolf
              pierced green by light.

You ask if I would trade my life…
     trade the acid pleasure of this air
     for gleaming scales.

Yes. Yes.
Let's not pretend.
We both know what lurks
behind this arras of roses and sun.

Why don't you believe me?
I would like to shed the weight
     of human skin,
     pare away these blunt bones.
I could quit it, spit it down
     among the salt-eaten ears of shells,
                      this life,
          and leave it for the water.

Give me the pearl brain of a fish
     flying weightless through blue glass

alive for moments only
          but perfect,
               perfect
     plying the shining blood
               of a god
          who never lies.