Part Two

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PUSHES THE SEA

Read again my friend, watch how the words bend.

‘come, will you join me in my precision?’,

Anno Birkin

I can hear it,

hear it but not hold it,

feel it but not touch it.

It wraps around me like a breath,

soothing,

cooling

and the voice falls

and becomes a tone

and I’m closer to its source.

And in the breath, a smell,

rich, deep, acidic, wind-blown over dense heath,

through tall seed heads of ripe grass.

And the tone rising, rising, until it’s clear, clean,

sky-lark sharp on racing cirrus clouds

and I can touch the voice,

feel its words

and they’re full and total

and carry the truth

in a stinging cold rain

dried by hot sun.