Strange Attractors

The moon’s white flag is draped upon the sea.
Sheets syncopate on aluminium masts.
Sisyphean waves roll in, endlessly
to break, draw back, and lure me to the past.

I walked here once but only knew to cast
my eye over the surface of each thing
but now the darkened surface seems a vast
shroud, obscuring the truth of everything.

I hear the sea cow songs of rusted drums;
forgotten spells that tell what lies beneath.
I still my breath until their song becomes
the sunken voice that memory can’t reach.

The water drags me down to where you are.
The brutal, frozen dark unveils a star.
A turning wind brings with it once again
The pizzicato plucking of the rain.