Reading the sheets

One mud-red sheet laid
wild on the wide berth
of our nights.  One sheet

blue as black opal, left
messed.  An effigy of wakes
formed by bodies    hands

from our fingers raking
through the stilled
ocean of each drowned

voice.  Two sheets, their
troughs and crests a jetsam
of jagged dreams dragged

through choked sleep.  Read
cloth as some read cards
crystal    runes.  Read ruins

in the surge and stain of our
last night’s violent scends.  Held
mud-red    black opal   close.

Inhaled deeply that last shared
breath.  Surrendered to the
thalassic swell of separation.


Sandie Walker (Western Australia)