Story

"Lisa, come to the window. How long
Will you stare into the vague ocean
Of time spreading thick through your mirror?
Haven't you heard that I loved you, don't
You know you are beloved? Lisa, the waves
Are waxing with the moon, and a tumult's
Beauty-strewn across the beach. Dolphins
Glimmer in the moonlight, candles flicker,
Sputter, gush, all of this the rush
Of love. Come to the window, Lisa."

Like thin shavings of time, the paper,
Shredded, scattered in the wind.
The dock became fragments, the ocean,
Fragments; the sun an incoherent blaze
Of all that's incomplete.
Still the distant glimmer of a net
Spread under the current
And the splashing dip of a hook
Or a diver (the matter is uncertain)
Broke the quiet of inchoate waves.

The mother of flowers strew
Slight beads of color
Across the beach, and the turrets of sand
Were everywhere rising where urchins
Settled their hands. The women
Would continue, like washed-up
Oysters, to cook on their towels,
The brawny men wrestle
With foam. At least, at last
One thing was resolved, or rather
Dissolved, dispersed
Through every corner of the dream.