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
find it lacking.