Coney Island, Winter
Coney Island, Winter by Jessica Slote
Once you have had about as much as you can take—
peerless blue sky, infinity of horizon
once the sea burning with the sun burns itself onto your retina
clarity of the horizon burning into your brain
(you can no longer say no to this day of days; to surrender is mortal and divine)
sun and sea and sky and reflections and vastness of infinity the infinite horizon
burned on to
the back of your eye
shimmering flickers on the cave walls
of your dark skull
once you close your eyes hours later
the majesty of that light!
lives
on the small-screen cinema
of your closed eyes
(remorseless unknowing living light)
once all that has happened—
you cannot go back to your small dark apartment
and pay bills
(lying in a stupor, eyes closed, on the bed, by the window, by the garden,
the sea continues its discourse with the sun and its blue vault and the sand).