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Dredged from the depths of a shaken Sennen seashell
she hears once more his voice, low, sonorous tones, sees the bones

of her past laid out, splayed out, another story
playing out, can feel it in her bones,

his voice burrowing in, deep beneath skin,
a cold blade digging in, the tide coming in,

shrouds of sea mist closing in, the veil blowing thin,
membranes of memory breaking...She sees anew the drowning seas,

sees for the first time his strangling hands,
pebbly skulls, seaweed ropes, skeletal fingers of coral

forcing bone-white wrecking lights into her cove...
Bone-bleached semen strands, Sennen's strand stretching

soiled sand before her like life or fate, grains like pulverised bones.
His dark-dune lurking, water-window watching,

waiting for riptides; a ripping of fabric, ripping of hymen,
sea-hymns now silent on salt-sheened lips

plump-pouty with youth. It's sordid, uncouth,
the salt sprinkle of sea-sweat sheening his skin,

the breath and the fingers quickening,
the coral's rough rigidity piercing, ejaculation of sea foam...

Buried deeper than bones, the sudden rush of memory waves
rattling bones of the past, shaking Sennen seashells.

Gulls screaming into the guilty hush.
Secrets hidden by sea-silenced sand.

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