The Last Maldives

The gentle little shark kisses me,
A first meeting, yet also a return.
Will I remember that jelly sea?
At least this moment immersion outweight memory.

I lie upon the ocean floor,
turning the heavy manuscript.
Born of me, yet to the world it belongs,
resting beside me where silence prolongs.

The sun leaves too hastily,
rising for another sea,
Never considering my longing—
a drop of time slides to the palm’s edge.

Beneath a sky where wild daisies bloom,
violet clouds spread open,
rose-powder falls upon the sea face—
the wine’s source has lost it place.

Someone dives in the dusk-lit waves,
my years rise and sink in the wine,
Recalling the first stage-fright decades ago,
paving the way for life’s glow.

Through the twilight haze the swing sways slowly—
I pretend I am still young.
A group of children flashes by, laughing,
tangling time, pulling at the night.

The Milky Way holds no evening star,
yet feels more complete than possession itself.
Night’s fine dust falls on my shirt
as I breathe in rhythm with the tide.

The tide retreats, taking me to distant clouds,
The tide returns, bringing me back after memories has gone.