Fell asleep.
A dream within a dream.
My pillow a thin tartan blanket
we found crumpled at the back
of your cupboard,
discovered like a pearl
in an oyster or two.

Five metres away,
the sea,
graveyard of lungs
slinks kitten-like
towards the soles of our feet,
a cocktail of voices
swimming in the wind.

I scrabble for your hand.
It is smaller than I remember.
Feel the deep lines
criss-cross
across your palm,
specks of sand
corkscrew up a thumb.

Your hair is seaweed,
still dripping from when
you took a dive,
gulped up by the sea,
and gone gone gone.
I treat you
like my favourite secret.

Only an hour
has passed.
The waves shush us both
so I count the clouds.
They move as lazily
as the fingers of a clock.
And then, my eyes are shut.