Boatyard

She came for the sea, seal-black and looked at him
or did he look at her, her eyes buried
behind sunglasses, a smile meant for anyone

because this is what reliving is, this doing
of things once thought and not done
and now being done when love’s over.

Somewhere within him she registered, this moment
a leaf falling and seeking a place
where it turns and turns 

wanting to be soil - the trail to where it goes 
never quite blown over, and he 
unsure if he’s robbed himself or his heart’s been burgled. 

Published in Stand, Issue 228, Vol. 18, No.4, 2021