(Or Triste at the Santa Barbara Sea Center)
Maybe it was the quiet desperation of the
sea horse, holding on to a spine of sea grass
inside a cobalt blue aquarium that brought it on.
Or perhaps the distressed Stingray flicking
a missing tail, as the frantic hands of a big- eyed girl
stroked its spine now smoothed by captivity.
Nothing is sadder than a creature trapped in mid-flight.
She thought. Whatever it was. It was enough to
remind her of her own meaningless
gestures towards freedom. And though it didn’t
make her weep any longer, it underscored
a shift in the weather.
Rumblings of thunder on a monsoon day
at the Port of Legazpi. Where her
missing heart is pitched.
