The Empty Beach


A fizzing hiss rising
to the low grey tongue licking
itself toward the shore—

quickly as quick as
the gust it rushes, roars soaring
while shackled sails quiver

& the first beats of
rain static battered the sand of
this morning’s storm

,which under shimmer ‘neath a
new lover—the gulls torn up shoved
through waves of wind

over droplets landing on
my cheeks before the empty beach
—exhausted sea smothered

& erased ,it all comes
down crashing in drenched swipes
the cold soaking through;

chasing me away
through diagonal lines, the tear &
the sting, the empty beach.

Mark

Thank you for reading. It really does mean so much to me.