Oystermouth

the night swallowed the sand grains
wet as oil and tepid,
it spun like a reel of film
far across the horizon
and out of sight,
gone.

I remember walking hand in hand
with you,
swaddled from the light rain
which drizzled and misted
and wrapped us up
like parcels,

and we danced when our footfalls
sunk
into the sand
and the sea laughed at us

and the gulls that should
have been circling overhead
were gone too,
their heads tucked under wings,
silent as the names we wrote
on pressed paper
earlier that same day.

the darkness pressed itself
around us,
hungry as a walrus,
it devoured the trumpet shaped shells
and left us tinkering
on the precipice of an oyster’s mouth,
wide and gaping
and waiting
for tomorrow.


issue-6

This poem appeared in Issue 6 of The Lonely Crowd. See my musings on the composition of this poem in Author’s Notes or listen to it on Soundcloud.