Out mid-morning to a cacophony of fishing bells
punctuated by the happening of a gull’s white noise.
Salacious waves wink at an ever-mute horizon and you pull me there,
advising a soak of my reddening feet, extolling the powers of the salt.
I bow to your will, skipping through a flurry of miniature breakers,
meditating on ooh’s, venturing deep – ankle deep, knee deep,
balls, belly button, chest deep, until I meet your eye-line
and we’re nothing but two heads bobbing there, wordlessly
given over to the tide, the cliffs, the bells and gulls all rendered
meaningless by a case of yesterday’s heatstroke.
