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in the bay of scalloped wavelets
the sun dances
shimmers white
against an unmarked sky
a floating pier angles out
undulates gently
like an erotic sea thing
and on it two men distractedly
tend a hand pump
service a red and white single-prop
delicate and ready
tethered
like an insect of restless struts and floats
presently they leave
assign the plane to its shackling
its hopeful nodding to the sky
while under the water
erect and iris-hued
the locust wing of a sail is seen
familiar
imbued with strangeness
by figures on the dark cliffs
who in celebration of the sinking
abandon themselves
admit in slow motion leaps
of final joyful surrender
their reverence for the sea
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