The sea ambivalent to my curses
runs a hush along the shore
to quieten my thoughts. You sit
like an outcrop for the cormorants
in the Irish Sea where a fishing boat
cuts irs motor and floats.
And what if you are my destiny?
My crazy mixed up fate that will disappear
as the mountains do behind the invading
sea mist, now just an outline smudged
by the blue-grey sky. Here on this beach
lapped by wrack, with the sea creeping toward me
I imagine your face: set on serious.