We rounded the bedroom corners to
a bright finish. In the depths, I hung
my old shirt, my suede jacket, your scarf
wrapped around its faded shoulders.
Everything seemed to disappear in the
symmetry of the curves, lost in time as
if all the way back to our first date night.
We emptied our heads in the sink before
turning off the lights, and wheeled our
suitcases to the taxi. On arrival, I watched
you unpack, and breathe in the emptiness
of the boxes. Arched, you looked like the
bridge we had crossed over. I saw your little
green hairclip lying precariously where the
piers joined. It had tagged along, hiding in
the black waves. Now a freight ship was coming
through, you set to give passage. I held my
hand very close to the eye, and climbed your
rising back slow-mo on giant fingers. Below,
the colourless sea beat for a familiar splash.