My toes fail to curl in the concrete beneath,
Tears unfurl as I yearn for the Beach.
My nose bleeds, infiltrated by gas, smoke and dust;
The sting of saline odor gone; eyes dry, for Brine I lust.
I swim in a Sea but of a different kind, stretching far out before me,
Schools of myriad Fishes crossing roads, circumventing my being.
But there is only One true sea, the Sea behind my Home,
The Sea where I lost a sister, A mirror on which the moon shone.
The Sea sighing and whispering, its waves the only lullaby I knew,
On its beach, golden sand and memories of a woman I made love to.

So I swim and I come up for air,
For air that smells of death,
Not of Brine.
Until I lay to rest, like
My sister in her watery grave
In this concrete Sea of mine.