The sea blots Genesis, sea salt ruins
to blood the red words of Jesus who plodded
remember, Kelly?across the waves. Kelly's
Bible, one of his brother's hand-me-downs,
seesaws tumbling above his head, prodded
by determined currents. Kelly descends until he's
at the bottom of the world, where suns
don't dart their light to, where a man unmans.
The book of holy code is a better swimmer,
sidling from wave to wave like a jellyfish,
disgorging its text as June disgorges summer
into an ocean of time, the Word's sweet Flesh
transforming once again in heavy seas,
becoming a sea-thing strange beyond surmise.
Fred Chappell, Spring Garden: New and Selected Poems, Louisiana State University Press, 1995.