UNTITLED

I want to have a house that casts a light across the harbour.
Flick the switch and draw a margin over the sea,
Carpets of pohutakawa flowers swirl and are pulled across the
shifting black page,
Paddle blade.
And at the window I can feel each drop rolling back into the whole,
Catching my light and exploding long enough to feel warmth on every
finger I ever dipped in.
Bite my salty lip and let cold blood fall between the lines.

© 2001 Trout &
Chris Marriner