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.
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