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This salt-sick rest is over,
lay crushed on the rusted stones.
The sand has all been swallowed,
it’s wrapped in the undertow.

The bay is only shallow enough to repeat
this game of wound and follow
to the edge of the sea.

Colour me insane, I’ll take you where
the coast divides the sorrow.
This is my terrain,
I’ll take you there to show you
on what the suffering depends.

Bellicose spray
cuts right through me,
birds fall half-dead,
clouds are rolling
into the shore.
I saw it all.

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