Siege

Poetry is the enemy of reality,
Bending whatever is behind
Until it breaks. There are splinters
Of it in the sand;
The wind transports them,
While dogs without eyes
Run into the waves and back;

The ocean is lifting herself up
Onto the land.

Tottering world, how
Will we ever see you?
Is it still possible
For an iris to respond?

Just lay out your sense
In valuable fragments,
And rearrange the flowers as they are.