Kirby Wright
Moloka’i Beach House
The interior doors
Have been torn off their hinges.Lauhala mats cover the floor.
Papayas and guavasWait in a wicker basket.
Fanged Tiki gods flank the TV.Tools of the kitchen have become
Ornaments. A copper cake moldIs mounted over the stove.
A platter with hand-painted fishHangs off the wall.
The storm windows are open.Coconut trees on the beach
Are a curious bunch;Some bend for the sun,
Others resist it.Kona wind carries
The scent of deep ocean.Islands are bunched
On the southern horizon.The sea is a mirror—
It sends reflections into the house.The Tiki gods smile
As the walls dance like rivers.