Another sting
on the beach at Herne Bay –
I put my head between my knees
and let the **** bite roll through me,
and when I look up
I can't tell whether the
tide is going out
or coming in –
    you didn't do it on purpose,
    of course.

As I walk
towards the vanishing point,
a white pebble
with black veins
    catches my eye.

I hold it gently, like an egg,
    a dragon's egg
    you said –
admiring it and planning
to slip it into my tote.

But in the revolution of a moment
I turn on my heel and,
crushing the stone against my palm,
I fill it with what you said
    and hurl it into the water.

And then I feel better.