sea

the sea is a ruin, country and state
still exist, spring
for the second time this year, grass
lies rotting in the town, no one
disturbs the grass rotting, there is
calm in the grass rotting

the storms cleared the grass
the rubble remained

leave the rubble, hanneke

the eye in the storm is calm
the grass rots dry in the ditches
the mourning must be over
calm reigns in the land of ruins
where half of the residents
have not returned
we can wait till the equator
equalized
rustic and wide open

the sea is a ruin, a very broad bed
the poles have dislodged themselves
from their frozen bodies of ice