Foam and Fury

Beyond what is beautiful there is a silent ocean
grey green hands of ambidexterity
they can tide me over, capture me, distinguish which of me will
drown while another survives, wilted but
immaculately sheathed in salt crust
the exact size and shape of a tsunami.

Sea turtles make me long for the islands
of my childhood, there is an exact rhythm of waves
a harmony fit for symphonic reproduction,
what it feels like to walk to where a coconut just fell, and
had you been there a second before, you
would have been sorry.
But now she scrapes and digs, scrapes and digs with her
arms like cactus leaves perfectly adapted to this and only this
one chore.
To deposit these eggs, on this beach, to the care of this ocean,
this world, and my eyes because I was here
at just the right moment, deposited
in foam and fury
by God.

- Sylace