Sport 20: Autumn 1998
Entering the Pyramid
Entering the Pyramid
At the beach I find small
memories to draw on
It can take months to
comb a piece so words
fall in place without
knots or kinks or little
flakes of skin
At eighteen I brushed
your hair in an untidy
room. It fell easily
bleached ivory
by the hard sun
Electricity caused
strands to float shining
fragrant towards my face
We sat in a pyramid
of light beside French doors
open to a garden of palms
passion fruit, paw-paw
your face turned
to the sound of waves