In the cutting reflection of scald,
where white crystalline plates craze
with weather, they walked naked,
enjoying the cancerous burn.
Whipped up with risk and oddity,
exhibitionist masochistic curiosity,
they copulated: crunch of salt
beneath skin, midgies swarming
out of putrid water almost evaporated.
Their orifices pulsated, lingering.
No return from the hot flush.
This happened. I know them.
Somebody took photographs:
black and white,
retouched.