from the lighthouse, to the harbour
a melody pulled from the deep, spilling over
as if it were mist. it pours and unwraps
apotelesma. an anchor-line snaps.
you’re in full sail now. it’s a strange, sidereal song,
this faraway rhythm to which you belong
still, the cormorant dives, still the seagull, it sings
its coruscant chorus, plucks aeolian strings.