slowed to a calm between the rigid aged breakwaters;
swaying the murky shadowy recess
before once again, heaving her belly upwards
migrating from the shore.
We stand in solitude
you and I – never together yet never alone.
Your emptiness rocks me like a skiff
journeying out the swell.
Too deep to run aground – too shallow to comprehend.
Twelve months – what long months at that.
Time absconding, coursing through my eroded bones:
and still, those execration’s keep on flowing from my mouth
I hold out my hand, fingers stretched to pain
stopping to watch a stone, you’ve skimmed
going down without a trace.
We are a lot alike, that stone and I
both remaining faceless in your never ending game.