after Rafael Alberti
They are crying.
We are crying.
I am going to cry.
They climb my shores and cry.
Climbing they cry.
Waves crash, they boom.
Stop the sweeping of the tides.
BUT WE MUST CRY FOR THE FISH
The open air a wonder
lasso the moon with silvery ropes,
& throttle her past Mars to Jupiter
with all of my hopes.
The port beaches around the world die,
boats dig in on land as sculpture studies
sailing in place,
halibut flop on wet sand to end her petulant crying,
the distance to shore shocks the casual bicyclist,
& the cold sharpness of lobster’s claws cut today
though nothing fair as perdition should ever upset,
since I am a God Omnipotent,
& I can sling planets to far Neptune’s length.
The problem solved I want to cry for the fish.
The dame can stop crying, she got what she wished.