In break with breakersí combing
Of sand tapped by a chiming fingering
On a naked shore sure in memory
Made of us curled within a dune
And brushed by grass like tufts
Of hair on a sunburnt face.† The move
Within is the tide and the salt is sweet
On our exchanging tongues.
With hands held against the burning horizon
All is small:† the waves about your
Nails are ripples, the spray across the rocks
Is steam, and a particle of sand becomes
A jeweled boulder, and there on hand to hand
There is a life-line for us.
Sea, skirling with gulls and foam, hides
All change, while we rest within the moving
Dunes and see forever on our palms.