The Great Tsunami

She recognizes its crest in the way he looks at her. 

The wave is as vast as the roiling mass in the Japanese

Print they had paused in front of at the museum,

Capped with ringlets of foam, all surging sinew.

That little village along the shore would be

Totally lost. There is no escaping this.

The wave is flooding his heart,

And he is sending the flood

Her way. It rushes

Over her.

Can you look at one face

For the whole of a life?

Does the moon peer down

At the tides and hunger for home?