you're late
and you peel the seaweed from your eyes
take off your shoes
to stain your feet with salt and stories.
from a distance
the beach has no colour
but each step finds a new shape.
there is too much sea -
these two lurching walls
one light, one dark
do not contain it.
behind you
something crystallises
a silhouette trapped in water.
strung lights show the way to safety.
you keep going
into bright sounds
a white hope
anchored.
you're late
but there's pink sugar in your sights
and it's not you that sleeps in slime
in silent briny dreams
any more.
you relearn speech with pebbles in your mouth
and comb your hair
as you climb the steps.
the sea drips off you
naked
shining.
February 1999
