The Red Desert

red desert 3

The Red Desert
*after Antonioni

There is a mind inside an island. By the brim

Of her shore, a boy culls from the sand; a ship,
Unmanned, scores the gulled coast
While cormorants repose on the glittering rose.

From the ocean, Poseidon is goading the shore.
Drops spray the boy’s back. He is shelled
To attack; his searching turns in; becomes

An internal thing. Friulian lyrics
Smooth crests from within. Who sings
Dialectic, in dialect unseen?

It is the island; it is everything.

Copyright © by Kevan Copeland

This poem appeared previously on Cosmoetica under the pseudonym Anthony Zanetti.

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