[Kay Syrah]

Where we pass,
the momentary
movement of disturbed
air, and the impression
of a changing light,
leaves its blue tattoo
of you on me,
of me on you,
measured, marked, mottled,
held, the radical instant,
ineradicable.

[Kay Syrah]

There is a line
where the tide
has cast, salted
and perserved
the last place we
searched the windrift
and each other,
which will last
untile this line
ends.