after the last boat 

then to awaken

only
after the last boat has left

water and wine in the cupboard
sun on an empty shelf

on the beach of unfathomable forms
to sit awhile at rest

I was told that each grain of sand is unique

here
where miracles are unlikely

wide open 

old man on the beach
he might have wept

nothing worth the keeping
could be kept

the house on the shore
stands empty now

his heart was tore
wide open

only the boat lies broken
not the ocean

beach hut

I rented a beach hut for the week
and kept it shuttered
it was golden inside
with walls of shimmering azure
beach huts in the rain
any colour you can think of
isn’t it a shame
no one’s going bathing

*

when we finally shed our bodies
and change
will we cower behind towels
on the shore
or will there be beach huts
I do hope there’ll be beach huts
any colour you can’t think of
beach hut