After the Hurricane

The sun illuminates where former smile, a crimson sunset into the crypsis fades. Optical illusion - boat upside- down, sails sullied, the upheaval of grit. My sight ebbs and flows, a buoy beholds the odd. I grasp the folds of skittered skirt, hang on tight, my fishing shock strength reeling. My black and blue breath, a sturgeon gasping. Funny how the ocean tides seem so calm… The wicked wretch is two-faced, a liar. I’d bask in her embryonic fluid — she can roll you like a reptile, scar you for life. Still like a siren, she calls me, my hair drying from her sin, her music beckons, shimmering waves prod, “C’mon in.” I dare to turn my back on my island. But a child’s palm nestles into my world, my heart sinks in vertigo — I let go. I begin to turn over hapless beach, finding cockleshells with wet hands and feet.