She wants romance as the tide turns its
black ink into the shore after the sun has set
and the sky is still ignited. Venus mocks her
as a star, but it could be that what you see and
want is what you get in a dream like this.
Even the stone where she stands emanates
heat from the day’s long drag to this moment of
reflection, and the mystery of mauve on the
horizon is solidified. It’s all in the description,
as if a kenning captured and controlled these
odd but normal realities, and a boat sails
up the river to the sea in a wind-full word.
Still watching the waves she has one last hope
and the sky darkens its heliotrope.