I'm the first to blunder ashore
******* a cloak around my nakedness.

He's cooking breakfast
as though nothing had happened.

No death on a tree, no empty tomb,
no walking through closed doors.

We share the bread he breaks,
relish flakes of sizzling fish

that juice our mouths, tang
the fingers we lick clean.

We pick bones from our teeth,
bask,full-bellied,and for a while

it's like old times, waiting for him
to speak, arrange our day.

He takes me to one side, charcoal
smoke snagging his robe.

"Simon, do you love me   love me      love me?"
He knows when I sit and when I rise

but is heart-sore for answers
I blurt across the hills, over the lake,

above echoes of ****-crow
only the two of us can hear.