Reflected in its concave surface
by David Taylor
a glimmer of light gathered from distant stars,
with a taste of salt from an infinite ocean.
Its form held perfectly by perfect love,
its origin behind one of two windows
looking out onto sadness and desolation.
With its birth in hunger and loss
it journeys towards a mouth that cries
and without speech proclaims humanity,
and without a grain of love soon dies;
as on that nearby ocean rides
vessels of salvation captive to political lies.