Ponyo (2008) Dreams in Tectonic Scales

S—      this is how we learn               to recognize touch: 
            watching the spring tide lick around 
a country’s most vulnerable flank,  
            the moon’s image        overlapping the sun 
like a dirty thumbprint       left in June.   
            I understand osmosis.             What it means 
to be permeable.         To let everything enter        & enter 
            the open passage of my mouth 
until cilia tickles           its roof. 
            My mother tells me      I have confused 
saturation with desire.       That she knows I dream    
            about the translucent legs       of jellyfish darkening 
to wet girl hair.        In this film’s final arc, 
            the moon turns          orbitless, falls out of the sky             
like a pinball       in a slot machine.                  
            I move                         under the buckled crests          
in a vocabulary of catastrophe.               I want nothing more                      
            than the hands to open & close 
around everything I adore:     my silver bracelet, animal         
            heart.               I want to touch the thin film             
separating every body         of water        
            from its sky.                To witness, for once,       
what sparks the electrons’      gentle repulse.

— Sarah Lao (from Split Lip Magazine)