Seawind

The seawind searches over the sand, past the cedar

shakes of the bent beach house, through the

open bedroom window, it curls and caresses

the gauze cotton curtains, then ripples the taut bedsheet

slides to the hallway - above pine floorboards that do not creak

Past the whitewashed table not quite flush to the wall,

where a brown-eyed woman in a caramel photo smiles,

but tucked behind her glass face, the breeze can't reach her.

Down and around the staircase into the living room.

over the backs of the rattan armchairs, depressed

cushions, looking down onto the driftwood table

ring stain ghosts on the surface remain silent -

out onto the porch where sand ebbs -

unrequited to the oiled onyx ocean, the

reflection of the beach house, the open window quiver

and the seawind wanes.