The Capital Says Its Old Name Three Times​

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so you must return.
To the water from whence you came,
find the ocean reborn.

Streets have trembled into new meanders,
but your feet still fit prints left in hasty ellipses.

A once understood sun attacks shoulders grown
soft, repealing arrogant misremembrance.

Screams sigh along hurricane winds.
Do you recognize your own blood?

And still,

This is not your home, the ocean spits.
This is not your home, the ocean begs.
This is not your home, the ocean heals.

And still,

the ocean shushes your name three times.