Dark-black, poised lashes stand like burnt forests
Surrounding white whirlpools
“Where do you go?” I ask the current
The waters beckon me.
I follow until we reach the island
at the bottom of the sea.
Light greens and browns swirl. Startling.
Anchoring me to this place.
The world shakes. At once:
force propels the ground,
the charred trees plunge together,
You look away
I check my watch
No time to chat.
I’m running late . . .