The sky is high and cold and the breakers foam an dfoam and foam.
It is blue and green and iron grey
The grey of tombs
The grey of ships
The grey that never ever ever leaves.
Salt stains my cheeks and lips and stiffness in my clothes
The salt, the brine, the ceaseless pound and spray
That promises to pound and spray until I go mad and even after.
Across the sea my husband reads and my lover sleeps
And I stay with a silent girl in a fog bound world and
And always the breakers,
Coming in and coming in and coming in.