The last waves
Have fled the shore
Into a thousand droplets
Dissolved, crumbled
Against neighboring coasts

They aren’t gone
They aren’t dried
Densed in nameless
Salts
Bitter or tasteless

They exist
They gulp
They slither
Beneath newborn rays
In shifting lights

They reflect
Another shard of sun
Scorchingly
The very same sun
…Perhaps it’s not too late

Jona Cenameri