(for Joy)
In this tender light,
the sun hangs,
a jellyfish throb
stinging water.
Shoals of flickering moments
flash out of my sight,
with waves coax the coast,
nudging boney history
and wetting dust.
Porec
floats on the backs of fishes;
boaters sail through its streets.
Tanned tourists, knowing no better,
steal photographs of an old people crumbling.
Slides of a town
sliding into the sea,
such windows are sunken eyes,
sunglasses
filled with rays dying.
The sun has fallen into the water
and we are drifting on clouds.
All aboard the glass bottomed boat,
watch us cast lines to catch
a glimpse
of some crushed tomorrows.
KEITH ARMSTRONG
