It can be,
after deforestation,
a veritable Pumicestone Passage,
sediments resting on the bottom,
algae floating and longing for sunshine,
but all things change
when the Dugong crosses over,
checking and nuzzling inlets
and outlets,
ascertaining that eggs abound
in niches and crevices,
safely stored,
filled to their shells
with life force
and oozing the pure
and sticky goodness
of white ambrosia
with its millions of cells,
light sensitive and sucking
with reticulum smiles
until silence returns
and the Sandman covers
all memories and tracks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem