Naos and the Sea
He can only look so long at the sea from his shut window.
The soundless agitation too slow to be broken glass,
too slow to find a figure or a word in all those reckless lines.
When he opens the window, it is only water out there.
That, and the sudden taste of salt from a dream.
J o s é A n g e l A r a g u z
Naos