It takes a separate leap
of faith to imagine in each
far off wave, a shiny silver

streak of blue fish flesh:
an arch of giant mammal
leap from the infinity

of endless sea,
exciting wonder,
possibility,

perhaps the misty spray
of a distant blowhole
or hint of dorsal fin

as the wave breaks,
then folds in.

Every false hope
leaves me to blink,

hand over eyebrows,
squint of lids,

as if the trick might
work as a crude lens.

It was only light
and shadow.

Wrong again.