Tide hue altering from deep blue to green
as it rolls toward ancient Rhodes’ off-white beach,
emerald glow piercing sand pebbles, sheen
surrounding each grain, then fickle surf’s reach
reversing, masking to white foam stretching
like Turkish taffy, then flattens and creeps
back into thick midnight-blue whirling rings
of undercurrent. Stark tow down
cliffs’ steep
scaly spine surely vibrates, surely snakes
flexed rhythms of massive power full length
of island’s vast spearhead. What
harsh mistakes
led Tiberius to withdraw here? Strength
of a foe? Unfaithful wife? Lashing sea
waves echoing dear Vipsania’s sad plea?
Roger Armbrust
April 11,
2013
