One syllable of her
is enough to startle me,
her face, her mouth like loose sand
blowing in soft waves across the beach;
her eyes like shadows escaping light,
probing at the night in silence.
She dances,
her hips moving with the waves;
sleek porpoise
made of silver, stone and ash.
Like the cold song of wet lightning,
she baths in the green light;
the moon lives in her silhouette.