Reynisfjara Beach

Tyler Dunston

I’m losing track of all the photographs my brother took.
In the town where all the houses look like candy wrappers.
Half the photos were deleted.
Half my memories are fog. Listening to distant calls.

In the town where all the houses look like candy wrappers,
we walked until we made it to the sea. Looking from the pier,
(half my memories are fog) we listened to the distant calls
of birds that sound like people underwater.

We walked until we made it to the sea. Looking from the pier
I saw his lens his eyes cast out over the waves.
Birds that sound like people underwater
cried out, the sound came out in bursts.

I saw his lens his eyes cast over the waves
of the black sand beach. Where some got too close to the sea
and cried out, the sound came out in bursts.
We stuck to the rocks and photographed the tide from a distance.

The black sand beach, where some got too close to the sea,
was my brother’s sanctuary. He took photos to remember.
We stuck to the rocks and photographed the tide from a distance.
We couldn’t allow the black sand beach to leave us.
My brother’s sanctuary. He took photos to remember.
(Half the photos were deleted.)
We couldn’t allow the black sand beach to leave us.
I’m losing track of all the photographs my brother took.