The sky is already curating stars and the unseen

creatures are crawling out of their burrows and

into my ears by the time the sea confronts me.
My friends complain I’ve been far for

too long but still the tug of return is too easy to ignore.

I sit and watch the light depart from the Adriatic 
as it does from my grandmother. Thirteen thousand

kilometres is a bit much (isn’t it?) to go watch

someone die. She would love this coastline though,
something about the ocean exhaling waves onto the sand

always brought her a smile. Frail Proust tells me people don’t die

all at once, but it’s like they’re travelling abroad.
Well the dead don’t clog up my Instagram with

obnoxious photos of old buildings or their beach bodies.

Though maybe I’d prefer it if they did and Nana
could soon post a pic with lips puckered while wearing

oversized sunglasses and an ancient monument behind her.

And then she can take a selfie with Grandad so he can say hi too. 
Last minute plane tickets really are expensive. When did

the water become so dark that it disappeared into the sky?

I’m disappointed that the ocean isn’t reflecting stars,
that would’ve looked good on my grid.