At Beaumaris


Our answers meet, colliding, half-unsaid,
as whispered words which hover in the air.
You rest your weight against me, hold my head,

and gaze out at the bungling sea instead
which represents what tumbled thoughts we share.
Our answers meet, colliding, half-unsaid,

like memories we've left unvisited
for twenty years. You're lost inside your hair.
You rest your weight against me, hold my head.

My breath. Your breath. Our laughing past has bred
a garble, like a dim, remembered prayer.
Our answers meet, colliding, half-unsaid,

respond in hiccups, jingles. We have shed
a million inhibitions, do not care.
You rest your weight against me, hold my head,

and spin my lines like so much broken thread
or broken waves. Our words fly everywhere;
our answers meet, colliding, half-unsaid.
You rest your weight against me. Hold my head.

From Love Poems

for Eithne