In the salt-smoke summer evening,
gleaming hulls lift and fall
with each respiration of the black water.
Masts tinkle and clank.
The last gulls cry.
Over the city tombstones
a bloodshot sun dies
in a brown sky.
Somewhere, people are crying among the embers
of the house they built with love,
or dying in the pool
where they thought they’d be safe.
Under fire-tormented clouds
blowing in from the west,
the oily water heaves a sigh
of restrained, sad fury.
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