There is a wire tap inside his mind
which pulls the waves in and over
the shore, fast. It floods
the earth and leaves his skin
pale and waterlogged, blue from the cold
and bloated with decay.
When the wall of water hits and the screams
of many tired, sad people can be heard,
the sinking city of Venice will crumble
away into the sea, leaving jagged,
splintered rock jutting from the ocean
like strange stone blades. In the silence
of receding water, I hear the cries
of a newly orphaned child and see
a small silhouette standing over the body
of his father, satellites still speaking
to the microphones in his dead brain.
The tide laps at his splayed limbs
and the water pulls him back
towards the ocean while the boy screams,
wailing as he clutches the cold, limp hands
and begs his father with tears and fury
to come back to him.