Duende in the waves;
The word is "away."
The surface is a glass with nothing beneath
To mirror,
Just the undulance of cloud
Torpor,
A line that's impermissible
To cross.
The resort has put out to sea.
The skies are grey and green.
The trees sway like yesterday's
Beach-turned bodies,
As if everything is slipping away
And they'd gladly let it go
If they didn't know the silence
They awoke to in the morning.
A pelican glides nearby
An inch above the horizon.
She will be forgiven for not seeing
Her reflection below.
It's all that is not her now, that glares
As if there's nothing left
Of what she once had been, before
The sea surged
And los otras disappeared ... But tortoises still
Vie for bonito
And bats triangulate away from their swarm
Every night.
There are facts to contest, brags to refute,
Violence to let loose
From the endless moments waiting here
For everyone else.
