MIRRORS

The distant day, receding
Always farther in the seas,
The last of summer speeding
Past sunsets in the trees−

The fringing ocean soaring
Louder when we turn away,
Its dark horizons pouring
Future into breaking day,

Reflecting on the sweeping glass
That rivers on the sand,
Letting tides of passion pass
Like water through the hand

At the edges of our reach,
Whose rearview mirrors save
Our history on the beach,
Our vacation in the grave−

May the blood of sky, the flesh of breeze,
The documentaries of dreams,
And griefs in all the frangipanes,
May the desperate last beams

Of our island’s drenching breath
Wrench the world back from your death.