4 August 2017
The imperceptible miles of a tanker on the horizon,
measured in units of shells
held between forefinger and thumb.
The disappearance and reappearance of plantation-row
turbines as they switch and
swatch between pewter outfits of weather, capriciously.
A girl on a long walk back from the breakers
until I see she’s reached another contour of liquid sky
discarded by the last high-tide.
Like the onset of childhood knowledge, sunburn
seeps stealthily into the skin
on a dishwater day,
and time feels as oil and water appear.