all this blue

Water weft
along the back
of her knees

meshed together,
as twilight’s
last manifesto.

Speak aloud
the eroding of
black -bricked minutes,

she names me
clamshell song.
“did you forget

the kettle
on the stove
last week?”

water vapour & binary
calls of seagulls,
in the early morning

in my friend’s bathroom
the brine reflects
the sky,

hammered bronze
along the sand reflects
the moon--anchor of days

reflects me
in my night-clothes,
only a baseball mitt

To catch a star.
A lighthouse

what seethes to shore;
it is not so much

what happened
as how
it happened.

She warned of
my hand out
the rusted windowpane,

hook mouth &
quicksilver Eye

held her
sea folded hands &
overbrimming ceramic;

all this blue
and still the boats
carry the dawn.

all this blue

lena rentel

lena rentel