I do not know her now
but in between I do, somehow
pearlescent moon, title of traveller
far flung from her orbit
onto greensand, shifting shades-
little sea reveller with graffitied arms
pulling apart with the currents
tendons afloat, wide sargasso
torn ritually from bird skulls.
Hands sifting, searching
for love in the spaces of pumice
but it was just wet sand.