Wind (Blackbox) by Monika Zobel



Swallows blacken the beach

I am throat-deep in water,
             seaweed-singed, stone-cut.

A shore of eyebrows, you said,
or eyebrow shore.

What’s the difference,
              between two images?

No difference, only space.
A gash.

We watch
              from opposite shores.

              Driftwood ferries
its skeletons across.