(Un)Repeated Instant

  

There's between your salt

the flavor of my peace

found year after year, waiting

in the current that surges between two islands

decorating my sunsets

and flowing in the deepest foam of my memory;

The smells of mired boats

in the seaweed of an empty sea 

in which there's nothing to do, but to keep walking

slowly watching how it fills.

There is the clock of my life,

each year stopping time

to retrieve its minutes

between those towns that begin where they end

and don't know how to exist

without the murmur of seashells

turning into sand.