Rupture

In sleep I sit naked

in the belly of the earth, 

my skin coated with salt. 

Miles above my head, 

morning sweats the cliff-face, 

heavy slate bled to feed the sea. 

For a moment, you meet my eyes

in the mirror, 

steam billowing in the saccharine heat. 

From nothing a seabird screams

for the water, fissure

through marble fog. 

Without language, I hear plainly: 

not everything is permitted to man. 

Revision note: I did not vary sentence length enough in this one, and the flow is off. If interested, give me your thoughts on how I could fix that.