Not that the sea was waiting
for the men, two outlines
just beyond the shade
cast by sagging soviet architecture.
The Baltic offers no explanation,
only lengthens its fabric—
a pale blue scarf
unraveling
faster than meaning,
faster than we can agree on the word “faster.”
Meanwhile, the people go by,
all buried in errands,
between cruise ships and bus tickets
and Mother Nature
holds this grey raw pyramid
without insisting,
as though this moment could be any other,
and probably already is;
as the undergrowth
gnaws at the ankles of sunset-watchers
as the weeds sprout out
amid the sandwich-eaters,
and some shoots slip out
amid merry beer-sippers,
the way a train schedule
pokes out of a pocket.
Their swimwear, striped and undecided,
like something borrowed from another century,
all blue and white and crumpled.
They stand there for a moment to
let the wind whip their bones,
No, the sea was not waiting.
Oct 19, 2025
Oct 19, 2025 at 8:44 PM UTC
Not that the sea was waiting
for the men, two outlines
just beyond the shade
cast by sagging soviet architecture.
The Baltic offers no explanation,
only lengthens its fabric—
a pale blue scarf
unraveling
faster than meaning,
faster than we can agree on the word “faster.”
Meanwhile, the people go by,
all buried in errands,
between cruise ships and bus tickets
and Mother Nature
holds this grey raw pyramid
without insisting,
as though this moment could be any other,
and probably already is;
as the undergrowth
gnaws at the ankles of sunset-watchers
as the weeds sprout out
amid the sandwich-eaters,
and some shoots slip out
amid merry beer-sippers,
the way a train schedule
pokes out of a pocket.
Their swimwear, striped and undecided,
like something borrowed from another century,
all blue and white and crumpled.
They stand there for a moment to
let the wind whip their bones,
No, the sea was not waiting.
Linnahall was used for the 1980 Moscow Summer Olympics. The building's exterior is reminiscent of ancient Mayan pyramids and the old Swedish-era bastions surrounding Tallinn's Old Town.
