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
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,
A tangle of porous limbs
besieged by seaweed.
Invaded by salt, pores-lungs-eyes-
the cracks and caverns of my skin
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.