Before the ivory no longer trembles

Before the ivory no longer trembles,
before the breeze-tipped sassafras
gives way to her lost lover at sea,

before all the maps are brought forth
and studied with special regard for oceans,
I want to spend a sunrise before the sun-

dipped wave-world. Away from highways,
universities, government offices, seminaries,
and most sentimental trees, especially yew.

I want to sink my toes into imbecilic
lagoons and blued landscape, imagine
a deaf audience under the gods' thunder.