Don’t come to me like a dull bell at noon.
Come with a sea shanty in your eyes,
pink shells in your pocket and salt on your fingertips.
Bring me gorse humming with heat from the cliff,
squill, thrift and sea poppies.
Bring lace skimmed from the edge of a wave.
When you go, leave sand on each stair
so I can still feel your rub at every step.
First published in Smoke No 70 Summer 2023