Chambers

The Chambers

The surf laps the sand

on the shore of Becket’s Tunisian

cinema imagination, of times

soul in shades aquatic

saturated glaring, past

a lantern to guide us

In 1969 I was 5

we rode Cormac’s trail

at sundown, winding

along the coast, skies

of ochre azure rust

vermillion violet formations

sequenced presences