By | 1 February 2014

11.53pm, Crackneck Point, Bateau Bay

tankers queuing up and down the coastline
sparkling in their sleep they are
compulsory distances apart

the scene, what we have decided is sorrow as bruising clouds
hover offshore compelled by
stage directions: sound of seagulls
and waves

impetuous winds mark the ritual
in coarse March air forming
puffy blisters decoratively against the stars

the hush before psalms

silence as a virtuosic act of history
written in memory of the sea

a whip of intimacy must be how the animals
when they come
to our back door
to die

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