NaPoWriMo 2005 – Cat Island

Cat Island: hills and a breeze, the grey rock of ruins,
a gas station tucked in a crook in the road. The high school
at The Bight clings to the hilltop, softened by tradewinds
shredding the heat. At Port Howe, I walk among walls
of a great house. It isn’t so great. Two floors and some windows;
young trees grow within them. But nearby’s the sea,
across a bramble lawn and some rocks, there’s the ocean.
Some say this is the landfall, this is San Salvador. Only natives believe it.

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