Peach Tree Island

Damon Moore

I am interested in an object

near Porto Covo

named after what it does not have.

A peach tree in this instance.

Swimming strong currents,

you can reach the place

overlooked by an old fort struck upon the mainland,

a prison once back in the day.

Both island and fort are deficient,

since the island has nothing to crop,

and the fort nothing to defend.

We bump up against deficiencies,

an inability to laugh for instance,

a reluctance to discuss poetry

in the presence of that younger person

you were used to writing alongside.

You knew they admired the littleness of flowers

gusting upon cliffs of Porto Covo,

that they never enjoyed a conversation more

and swam the strong currents,

a person you knew, you now know less well,

who looked across to Peach Tree island,

never regretting it had peach trees once,

and the closest to that landmass you ever got.