The Skull of Eriskay

Smiling from the air, these jaws of rocks unite
In chomp and champ of spray, to consume them all.
Saliva washing them in its salty way,
Eye sockets glimpsed gauntly from the air,
False formations to fool the fathomless,
Death defined in salt and petre and rotting wood.
Come drift here, come love here, come be buried here,
White faithful bones of the deceased washed clean.