Beached

Beneath doubled skies, between grays,

Catching the slow-slow backwash
Against the shore, oceans fold

Into quartz and a thousand citrine suns
Flesh in shades of salted yellow;

As I dream her skin within the shingle:
Shimmering. Rescattered. Delicate.

Beyond horizons, footprints follow
As if a row of strangers, stretching

Until they are neither here, nor there.