Monet's Sea

The sea’s a Monet

today.

The slight chop

pieces away into

the idea of a

horizon;

this is where I set

my gaze,

beyond borders

or edges.

I’ve never been

to sea

but can imagine

the secret that

voyagers to this

point must hold:

that they come apart

here,

as the painter's brush

intends they should,

undress and lose shape;

run like colours

into the notion

of another’s arms,

as floor gives way

to bed,

and lips to thigh.

Then back to the

photograph

of my sandaled feet on

this pebbled beach.

I won’t set sail today.