Weary from running, we lay on the sand, gazing
At the Venetian-blue sky darken and arch. Wind picked up,
The torrent-pregnant air thickened and paused,
Tangible and lavish as evening magnolias.
The storm closed in. Wet wings opened over the town,
Inundated the marina, reigned over the island
Locust-swarming beads of rain. Waves pounded the shore
As thought it was the only chance to spit out
Gods once charmed in, raging to reclaim their freedom.
The ferry buffeted in by the waves, the boats already toasted.
Night crawled in, sprawled along the streets,
Shut all windows dark. Hiding you in my arms
I lied to you and was not sorry. The sea swelled up
And brought forth an ocean.
A deck of roof-tops took off, black rooks of terror
Policing the island among the lightning in a vain
Search for virtuous souls to be helped to heaven.
I felt you tremble and thought of nothing else
Plunging into the icy havoc. Was it the beauty
Or was it the violence that spoke to us? If ever
A perfect moment to die, we had it then,
Diving into feral waves, gasping for breath,
Losing the sight of the other for a sec, for ever,
Till finally a foam-towel was thrown on the sand and tired,
Drained storm retired behind the church spire and the south beach,
Leaving what’s lived to its defeated devices.