dominica
Body of water - to the point where it appears to be in a solid state.
The clouds -- like popped corn lofted in the air, appear to be slowly falling,
back into the ocean. A translucent tendon runs between us and them.
It is stratified with different dignities and forms. Shadows,
painted on the puffy bellies expose omens. Some reflect the blueness of Her,
an ice-clear-patent-leather-blue that you can't stop staring at.
A blue that mesmerizes birds.
It's corporeal here. Beyond what I first comprehended supple to be. Soft, full land, dwarfed by the meniscal ocean -- who reigns the love supreme here.
She's playing that all-knowing clairvoyant trumpet sound in low frequencies,
so they can only be felt. Encompassing and surreal, you can't tell where the horizon line lies, like the middle of a Coltrane rhythm, begins and ends. Lost and found at the same time. A terraced, curvaceous mass slides up from Her body -- Dominica.