Woman walked into the sea,
dissolved into foam;
      bones saturating the barnacled rocks,
      getting caught in the seaweed,
      washing up upon the shore.

Woman waited
and sometimes he came,
alone and naked,
like a warrior to the sands,
the sun burning his body brown.

And everytime he waded in
and floated on the waves
woman wrapped herself
about his body.

Afterwards, he would pick up a pretty shell;
      that night, as he lay in bed,
      he held it to his ear.

It reminded him, though he could not fathom why,
      of her voice.

Poem by Tracie Cleaver, copyright 1989 & 2001.






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Gwendolen's Sea