I climbed the watch tower
and marveled I could hear the surf
beyond the scrub forest,
beyond abandoned bunkers.
Unexploded ordnance
still lurked beneath the dunes.
In languages no hand could hope
to write, grey seagulls cried.
In my hotel room that night
you spoke to me across a continent.
The lamp outside my window
floated with the moon
over pale and silent graves.
