I watch you scutter in and out,
upping roots like some strange pet
and nose around your loneliness.
Rain needles in and ghosts my sight.
I carry you in my cupped hands
under a flat and blackened sky.
Smudged and still against a door
you watch the boat; its pitch and cut
slips silver fish towards the gulls.
You choose to scream: I cannot hear
but only see your head thrown back
mouth wide, but nothing coming out.