Blue Lament

Tangled strands of hair
stream behind me as I walk.
My feet sink into the cool sand
not yet warmed by the sun
That’s just now rising over the violent ocean— the ocean that kills
and takes us away from our rosy utopias,
mutilating us all the way down to our endangered hearts.
As I turn to look, my hair blows into my face and gets stuck
on my lips covered in wintergreen chap stick.
I walk in a steady pace; every step graceful
and on beat with the waves.
I hum Pachebel’s Cannon to myself;
she loves that song.
She wants it to be played at her wedding.
But her wedding is far away from now,
and there’s a funeral in her near future.
With every note I hum, I want to let myself out
and explode into a dance of lament
over the blue serenity of this dejected dawn.
So in paradise I walk, next to the drab ocean
and under the tepid sky.
I only wish I was on that plane
to help her out.
She doesn’t even know he’s dead yet.

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