“I myself raised them up from out of Nu, out of watery nothing.”
—The Book of Overthrowing Apep
At Lands End we poise along 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.