As the morning light gathers a beachhead -
A crumpled spearhead massing,
They stutter their unkempt melancholy
Under the bottomless vaults of an unfit air
Littered with dawn shrieks,
and the calm deaths between siren's screams.
She scrubbed uncomprehending in the latherless shallows
And cried out, 'my soap, 'tis broken,'
'Haven't you bathed in the sea before?'
The delicate spokes of understanding
Eggshell undone
Unwrapping mistrust, and all its friends,
Who come rushing in
With the yolk of the sun.