A wide stairway leads down into the ocean.
There is no one who can explain this,
sketch the history for the new arrivals.
Nearby, and half-hidden by a squat
Asian pine, is a statue of a man in a
Napoleonic stance, arms behind his back,
hand clasping wrist. There is a spider web
from crotch to knees, and scatterings of
eggshell at his boots. His uniform is stylized
and could be Admiralty daywear or garage
attendant.
Meanwhile, the tide climbs the stairs
with a warm, slapping sound, and further down,
where the water grows murky, an oar and a
waistcoat of seaweed can be barely made out.
The cloudless sky looks horribly cold.
The pine tree trembles in a sudden breeze.
The web thrums. There is no marker on the statue,
it appears to not exist at all.