The beach is made of glass Walking backwards On the far side of the rain Footprints erase themselves In swiftly drawn tongues lapping I am inside my Melchizedek A message, overlong Stained with salt, curled within Break to find the ocean’s scrawl –Almost indecipherable We chastise to the whine and palsied shake of aeroplanes Bright and corkscrew shards Just a casual threat In the thought of sudden falling Now a sun-struck chisel mark In the poise of distance Almost gone
