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.