You have tossed me in the spray of the waves
and rolled me in the swell of the ocean.
You have washed me in the brine of your unshed tears
and your salt has dried on my skin.
You have lain still while I trailed my hand through the waters,
stirring the luminous phosphorescence,
and glimpsing, in the deep lagoons, bright coral
and the lurking Leviathan.
You have beached me, near to drowning, on my own foreign shore,
and though
sea water is no use for drinking
when I journey inland
I shall take a bottle
to baptise the dry surprises of the desert.
Summer 89
For a friend who was feeling rather dry.
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