Castaways (Poetry)

I feel you standing on that far shore
your features drawn tight in a grimace
against the fierceness of the wind
eyes narrowed, the wet salt caked
                                on your lashes

Words tumble from your lips and I can’t tell
if you pray or curse the grey/green waters
stretching all those miles between us
and the tides that tease each pebble — tug
                                                and then discard ...

In dreams I walk the very edge of earth
                                        to seek you out
imagine that I spot your figure
on some storm-bullied headland gesturing
forever defiant —
                        arguing our case
        in the greasy cotton courtroom
                                        built of clouds

On calmer days your spirit hovers —
haunts the cliff path where the sea thrift grows
and memory draws us close
                                each thinking of the other
as evening soothes and settles — admits the secret castaways
                                                                        we are