Tongyu

16

Town of Water

the wooden replica of the Golden Hind, dated 1576
did not travel around the world enough to find
the Atlantis beneath you, a small place with
pastel cottages and ivory roofs dangling daintily
between your fishing boats and my breeze:
a light air that sweeps up the sand, still
vainly glowing from the sun's
disloyal embrace.

a quiet backdrop where nothing ever occurs, but
it's strange how the seas never
look the same; who can really claim that
they have seen your countenance, slyly
concealed under the congregation
of human lethargy?
a smart maneuver indeed but upon
closer perusal, I discover you are just a shy one.

they say you have treasures buried deep but to me
you are but an old man with a child's heart, frightened
yet willing for those who listen closely
to unravel the layers of rust that constitute your melancholy.

come, the wind chimes are starting to cease their fickle
melodies, but I suppose you are a fickle
one as well; I will forgive you for they say
all that remains constant is a changing heart.

after I pass, the currents that
sweep up my remains will carry me far
from you, and you will have to wait once more
for all the time to revolve around the seasons and
to bring a droplet of water back to your oasis again.