The sea never lied, it always lay wanting
to hold you and everything,
to make it all ocean. Not for wanting you,
just to lie over itself
and level the world out,
smooth on top.
It’s over for the island:
every window will open or shut forever,
the powerful places will be roads for swimming over,
great coral malls. Doomed
plants and animals,
last of their kind, settle in.
It was a long day. The bay
will be here in a minute.
It hasn’t been a lie, this is how the world works,
ask the crabs on Krakatau.
Yours was a life above water, your dreams earthly dreams,
now you’re a floater, burnt plastic bead.
—
© Van Kelsing, 2015