This is called "Touching the King of Spain Underwater."
"He was a coral reef and I, the barrier.
A divided concept.
Words that work against each other.
I once thought of water as time or space,
that it supported and suspended the fans
of moving creatures, great banks of snails,
drifting towards rays of light-colored angelfish.
The dark clack of morays like dead
leaves on the ground, hidden under the alien barefoot.
I dreamed water was touching my lips when I was thirsty,
but could only know the time, and space, and water aside.
You were there once, and touched me like water,
and are not there now to touch me.
All those concepts are vanished.
Water evaporated on a hot day, or dammed up
on the other side of some big mountain range.
He was a coral reef, I, the barrier, poetry, some ocean."