Lightbox

When I open up the shades
And windows, the whistle
Of the breeze and swash of waves
Pops up in our lightbox cell,

And with the slap and fizzle
Of the bay, and the flotsam sun
On washed-up shells,
Pins the wavering horizon

Flat, until the tray fills in
With the scent of tamarind
Outside, the shallow robin’s
Egg that covers up the fable

Of sky’s Polynesian glare,
That sucks in sand and wind,
Breaking surf along the table,
Incandescence in the air,

Close-ups of our friends
That slides bring back inside
The humors of our lambent lens,
Soft winds and tide

And souvenirs contained
Within the living snapshot
On the glass: easily explained,
But, as a rule, difficult to spot.

May 10th & 11th, 2022
Kaiholu