Shipwrecked

World wrecked; if only the wind
Would work up a tempest
And scoop her up with it, in
An amalgam of dust particles
That would soon
Resurrect.

For all the times God
Knocked His knuckles on the spheric globe;
Knobbly and rheumatic,
Demanding,
Over the din of overlapping voices,
Reticence.

And she is beaded in tears.
Shipwrecked heart, floating;
Greying, decaying
Soundlessly moving among the seams
Of silky sea.