
cardinal points

OUTSIDE

twenty minutes to high tide.
the spring tide draws 
gravitationally. she will wash 
over me, into me, 
an anointing 
for my bravery.


TRANSITION

all the world of numbered 
grains, frantic, clinging sand closes her eyes.
reaching, blind, her hands strike 
the shore, closer with each grasp, 
then withdraw regretfully.

all the world of numbered 
pains, brutal, rough hands close my eyes.
when she comes 
i will take my place.
her arms will turn gently,
her spare, resonant voice a lullaby.


INSIDE

high tide. she caresses my legs,
cold, bitter lover, tears i could no longer
shed. her hands round my waist,
we dance to a melody wrought in light
and gravity; she is 
the very first silence.