He watches as the shadowy ship on the horizon
beyond the blue-grey house
disappears into the Blakeney mist
sinks soundlessly into the distant pit
where there is no sun,
and is consumed by your tears
Just another waterfall
in the story told
between your sheets
as if all waterfalls were not miracles
and all ships do not continue to exist
beyond your fears
He waits for the horizon to reimagine itself
in uncreated light
sees figures walk on what had seemed to be water
and you out there like a sunset
unique, shimmering,
riding the waves
while wild barley lines the inland verges
ripe but ungathered,
way beyond temptation