Banded continental petrel, the arrow hovers kitewise
in and out of sight, strong eyes composing a pirouette
of slim darkness: death’s choreography shaken into light
on the sea. Over water and wave’s domain,
the flutter of painted flames on canvas,
stylized rose and yellow slate.
Valery’s sailboat, like a bed the nymphs swim beneath.
Barefoot girls forsake the cruelty of white sands,
turning their bare arms out to the sail which rises and falls
with the red swells of twilight.
The pilot watches, memorizing the measurable slant and fall
of that beloved left-behind light.
Valery’s sails, to and fro upon a horizon only the poet sees,
upon the immense shadow of the sea, a trail of roses cruel as sun.