Guayama

Jack Newton

15 April 2018

A cloud split in two —

the rift allowed a

blue river of sky to flow

across the parched bonewhite landscape;

The coconut-palms stood upright again

and the crackled salty seaweed turned

moist and returned to the water –

A metal Medalla cap washed

free of its sandy coat and put on

a rusty one instead –

The frigate-birds came too, now that the

fish were on their way home to the

lagoon

where manatees used to live out their jolly lives

but these days were forced through the

mangrove canal and into the land

…For a moment,

everything was as it was

but after a time the

rift closed again and the clouds came

back together, leaving only the pebbles

and cigarettes strewn over the beach,

and a whispering so faint

that even the oldest and

wisest could not tell

whether it was just the

wind, or the ghost of

waves crashing on the shore

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