I
Trees are bent sideways and hand the beach is gone.
We are alone together under a green-and-white striped tent,
dressed for a party, a wedding in a hurricane.
We’ve taken tenuous shelter under this bit of awning,
this scrap of canvas at First Beach in Newport, where
minutes before laughing guests were drinking champagne.
Now tent poles are lifting from their moorings,
and chairs begin to float away. But you say,
Don’t worry. We’ll both be safe here.
II
trees are bent sideways and half the beach is gone
dreams are not to be likened to the unregulated
we are alone together under a green-and-white striped tent
connection is not broken off entirely
dressed for a party a wedding in a hurricane
precisely the most trivial elements of a dream
we’ve taken tenuous shelter under this but of awning
if attention is not paid to these elements until too late
this scrap of canvas at First Beach in Newport where
they are not meaningless
minutes before laughing guests were drinking champagne
struck by the blow of some external force
now tent poles are lifting from their moorings
they are not absurd
chairs behind to float away but you say
is sleep the mind isolates itself from the external world
don’t worry we’ll both be safe here
it would be impossible to wake us at all