Still from a movie:
                    Adolsescent girl wearing bikini bottom walking alone on a rocky beach, with a few desert plants in the background.
Il Deserto Rosso

My island seemed to be
a sort of cloud-dump. All the hemisphere’s
left-over clouds arrived and hung
above the craters—their parched throats
were hot to touch.
Was that why it rained so much?
And why sometimes the whole place hissed?
The turtles lumbered by, high-domed,
hissing like teakettles.
(And I’d have given years, or taken a few,
for any sort of kettle of course.)
The folds of lava, running out to sea,
would hiss. I’d turn. And they’d prove
to be more turtles.

Sepia-toned landscape photograph
                    looking down over a still lake. Trees in the foreground, a rock outcrop over the water
                    with a single nude female figure standing on the edge, looking out over the water.