At Burnished Island

The cove beckons me

to the sea

it is really further

than it appears

We jinxed this thing

there is truly no honeymoon

just a wasted woman

squeezing lemons

in a timeshare skirting the coast

the tourists arriving

in colorful speculation

a rusty bus heading downtown

to the markets

Peddlers scream

all they know

buying is an art

swimming is survival

Let’s party at the hotel

three flights up to

broken dreams, caramel flan

and tequila

Give me a key

the one buried inside

your crawling mind

let me grasp the future

or choose to bury myself

in a sea cave

drowning on a journey

to a cove of falsity and azure sea tides

avoiding the eventual



10 thoughts on “At Burnished Island

  1. Lana, you see through the facade of the “get-away” and show it brilliantly. I like how the key is buried inside the mind, and the final lines, “avoiding the eventual / tsunami.” We can run but we can’t get away from ourselves; the tsunami is coming. Excellent! 🙂

    • Thanks so much for your kind words, Joan. You summed it up nicely. There are some people living a plastic life, and they truly can’t “get away” from the curse that defines them. Happy writing, my friend. xx

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