Where Winter Spends the Summer
On a beach towel print of a bosomy mermaid
that reads I ♥ Miami. In an everglade’s
wild plan marked with grilles and canopies.
Between concrete, leaning towers and a tide
meant for healing. In a daze, dreaming, gazing
at Odysseus’ wine-dark sea. In the unclothed
body’s prescient haze. On the front of a postcard –
a postcard painter’s dream – in dabs of yellow
and green, intended, as postcard painters will,
to make a symphony of bathers between brush marks;
map out, in palm-tree fences, a new world – an answer to
the sirens call, when all the bathers want is no world at all.