The last time we spoke
Regret unsettled you
I wonder now if you saw
Time
drifting
away
They said you went quietly
Whilst we were on Honeymoon
Your passing a silence
We received with congratulations
Upon our return
We did not know how to honour you
There was a space
Infecting everywhere you were not
I bought a cactus
Asked for it to be wrapped as a gift
Unsure of my intent
But it was you I longed to recreate
We escaped the city that weekend
Returned to our old haunt on the coast
Trudged from ancient cabin
Through dank water meadows
Across Tupp Bridge
To grey autumnal sands
A fractured sky
Cracked sun
Egg-like on rockpools
Tide running backwards
White horses galloping
heavenwards
And then we saw you
Manifest and haunt us wicked
Gathering stones and shells and barnacles
We spelt your name across a desolation of sand
Below the hilltop church where once you married
Salted remembrance burning our eyes
Tomorrow your name would be gone
Gathered in your lover’s tidal arms
Summoned for one last tryst
We returned to the city next morning
At peace
With you existing beyond the waves
Zoe Davis is an emerging writer and artist from Sheffield, England. A Quality Engineer in advanced manufacturing by day, she spends her evenings and weekends writing poetry and prose, and especially enjoys exploring the interaction between the fantastical and the mundane, with a deeply personal edge to her work. You can find her words in publications such as: Acropolis Journal, Livina Press, Full House Lit and CERASUS Magazine. You can also follow her on Twitter / X @MeanerHarker where she's always happy to have a virtual coffee and a chat.
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