Hey you with the sneakers on…out of the pool

Enduring evidence to be extracted
from the alphabet of the wind
as your steps are followed by
the buzz of tropic silence
& your entourage of pilot whales

I’m supposing must be a reference to the 19th century

every claw, tentacle, hoof, wing & fin
reading east to west
& the dark silk torch curtain
falling like a hammer
into the sea

Your eyes are sand formations
constantly shifting           changing color
though if the light catches them just right they
could be mirrors
suffused in restless ocean gray shadows rippling
in pale sunlight

like something I hear

but only when I’m not listening