I await, an altar on the cliff. Desperate
to appease, cutting nimble feet
and nicks until I’ve bled a little everywhere,
I trace my match along
the flinty coastline of your desire.

Come. We make the day,
this blazing instant blinding,
yesterday’s husks blistering to ash.
Fortune and madness in tempest,
a firestorm of ferocious consummation.

By night, we flicker upon waves,
a thousand chipped and tipping pieces
by moonlight, braking and gathering
in endless kisses towards the sky,
rocking golden to and fro.

And at the last, after the too much
and then nothing — for it’s true;
flames extinguish, tempests cease —
and memory is embers,
I will spread your ashes across the sea.

– Aaron Glover