Modern Ruins
       

The Civil War fort grows
from the water before us, out of coral
and rainbowed bands of fish.

We toe the moat, hike up
to the third tier, inspect the grass
growing from bricks, and stalactites ice-cycling,
as if these vaulted gunrooms
have always been here.

Could we be more beautiful this way —
torn open in places, our brick and mortar
falling to the ground,
beaten by storm and sea, in complete solitude
inching toward Cuba?

The sun presses its gold
into the bricks and shoals.
Catamarans board passengers.
The salt and sand stuck to our skin
scrapes our legs where they touch.

Your arm's around me. We watch
as ruins fuse with small, clustering, birded islands
and then dissolve into complete nothingness.

Tonight, there, the stars will be clear.

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Copyright © 2022 Emily Schulten All rights reserved
from The Way a Wound Becomes a Scar
Kelsay Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission