Women in black
carry wine in large urns.
they bring it in
the May noon, when the sun is
far above the horizon.
Two of the men are burried up
to their necks in sand.
they don't blink their eyes,
they have no tears. They don't smile
when the women approach.
To the left side, a man is tied
against a smooth post. while
the women wet sponges and
cool the faces of the buried men,
the standing man
closes his eyes and his lips move.
But at night, after the women
have left and the day is asleep,
the man stares at the train tracks
across the horizon. In the glow of the moon,
he can see the skyline of the city
and smell the waters of the wet beach beyond.