Deep fingers cup pools of missing
flesh and silence- cradle the spill
between bottomless hands.
The quiet ear swallows no sound,
so will drown in neither
an absence of noise or meaning.
Light less an eye colours nothing.
The vacant moment grants both rest and fury,
but each is lost
in this mangrove of bone and water.
He watches from shadowed shore-
it is always behind her
so she cannot see what he will not hear.
There is no warning of impact as skimmed stone
shatters this empty lake.
She is left to wait with her fear,
that his ripples will find her,
again.
Silver trophy winner
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