Florida, 2023

we were guests; 

i spilled beer on the couch

and you waved your hand, not the first time.  

mosquitos and red tide forced us inside, the windows closed.

the barrier island has since been breached,  

and life accumulated, even curated

sits curbside atop soggy drywall.

futile, to shore what’s precious

when aggrieved nature unravels its string of consequences,

and all that remains is the wave of your hand,

absolution for everything lost.