A Ketch, sails like twin flames, reaches

across the bay;

                     hand painted – repainted –

shades of blue and white

on the thin cloth of my folding fan.
Day does not dwell

and this breeze will not disturb
             the sand’s temperament.
Bright waves against rocks; no sooner

are those strange sculptures to a moment cast,
they are taken apart. The sea alone

is so irreverent.

                       It cannot be fixed.