I speak to you in rare moments of sleep
As shipping news speaks of conquered waves

You wear the look of women in coastal cafes
Who have read between the fishing headlines
And cast away puzzle pages
Tea-ring-stained
For weeks
Yet swear daily they do not weep

I speak to you in those rare moments of sleep
As ships speak in song to lighthouse light

Yet I know that when awake
Should in time come the chance
To   really   speak
My words may not rise
From any squall-safe
Harboured-heart place  

But undelivered with the dead litter of shore  
Cling as whelk would
To the frame of some drift door        
I can neither close
Or in clinging
Allow tides

To erase