We heard the fish there cursive through the coral,
That starfish prowl the boulders, that seaweed
would flay the salty diorama, and like a quarrel
dissolving, the shore-world would go to bed.
We heard the stars would paint a glassy mural
Across both sky and waves. We heard the thread
of each star’s light would weave into a laurel
that rests upon the island’s bowing head.

We’re folded in the jeep with chicken crates,
children, and ancient men with smiles like crusts.
I put my headphones in. The music greets
the stench and heat, like light a door its never
entered. The coastline gleams. Even the dust
is silent now. I want to live forever.

From LineBreak magazine.