If I could walk with you
among the erotic slopes
of sand.
Coarse and charred
amid the carnage of erosion.
If I could descend the gully
with you.
Where buffalo grass oscillates
in geometric perfection
as we rise to emulate
the abrupt transition.
Ground and sea
together and separate
in the same tender moment.
The azure sky
stripped of intrusion.
Every molecule quivers
like a memory.
If I could walk with you
on a winter beach.
Seals barking.
Sun bath.
Tidal flats.
And take off shoes.
Feet numb
to get closer
to witness
the nudge and bliss
of the mammal.
The one that lives
in its own skin.
And if I could walk
further still.
Parallel to your vivid stride.
Moments from touch.
An anamoly of trust
and sensual rush and forever.
I pick up a skull
fractured
with grating wind
and the kick of stone and shore debris
and search for missing pieces.

-- Dianna Morton

Provincetown, April 25, 2003