Early morning dreamscape
flying over sea spray
watching ghostly shapes
white sea lions gliding from the foam
adrift inside a cliff face
windows open to wild birds bathing
in cold grey light.
I can smell you, soap, musk,
mingled sleep breath:
outside the language of love
we are adrift in our own desires.
So much rain in shrouds
tight on your skin
hitting roofs, stinging faces,
a sting in your tail
I rearrange the evidence.