Each morning they re-hang the sky
early, before sunrise; it moves to left or right
and I look hard to see the gap

between here and heaven.

The sea returns and returns
sprayed black and illuminates
the swimmers, white in the moonlight.

You have your moments; we talk
in broken phrases, as time passes
erratically culling the silence.

The girls hover like angels their
skin sweet and multi-coloured
I watch you sniff their fragments,

You lie sanctified by dream
a hedonistic sprawl of boy limbs
and soft fur waxed into pillow.

We will have to call love another name
suspended in this middle ground we jostle
for significance,

find it lacking.