A Sea Romance

You said let’s go down to the sea

and your eyes were awash with the wind and the smarting sky-fret

on that foggy, impassive cliff.

 

And my eyes joined yours

sympathetically downward

and found a mass and a movement and a purpose

so unutterably other

so lacking in sympathy

so much of itself, not belonging to me.

 

An implacable mass in perpetual motion

consuming the horizon.

Earth more undecisive

nothinging as it towers

breaking its own back as it climbs,

sporing.

 

I’m driftwood.

A tangle of porous limbs

besieged by seaweed.

 

Invaded by salt, pores-lungs-eyes-

the cracks and caverns­­ of my skin

faulting

under this undulating influence,

 

birthing a precocious wind that bites my teeth

and calls my tongue its own.

(The gulls don’t know their wild flight

is not their choice).­­

 

And it’s not the same sea that colours your eyes

and stare into mine

overcome with the beauty of it all.

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