Vay Cay, formed inside the tides, is a reef
you can wade out to, like, a hundred yards knee deep
in turquoise water, find a hammock strung
between two palm trees, sit and watch the tides
push, what they call sea peonies, back to land.
Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves,
I tell the wife. All those poses the peonies make
could be the effect of, you know,
a photo-tropism, the kind of poiesis
a false god might make to propitiate
the one true god…Vay Cay, she says. Vay Cay.
How the sun looks over the ocean.
The tiki bar features a Tequila Mockingbird.
I have a beach book and a slight red glow.