“I myself raised them up from out of Nu, out of watery nothing.”
—The Book of Overthrowing Apep
At Lands End we poise along the Roman ruins
of Sutro Baths as on a balance beam.
It is mid-morning and the fog belt peels
off the alameda, where they say
the Yelamu once sang to the sea
singing to Xa-Matutsi who capers
in a sweathouse at the end of the sea.