BEACH QUARANTINE 4
When you are sitting on a wooden bench beside the sea
thinking about all the things you must let go of:
fairness, resentments
punctured presentiments
in front of you in the pink lit ocean
a black body looms
point above the wave tips
its curvature a comfort
water birds glint like metallic studs on the foreground
you must relax your eyes to track
the mammal’s fin, to predict
the undulations you cannot see
the dolphin’s path is a sine curve
a hidden visibility
an oddity performing some
early morning mathematics of hope
