Ochre

so pale a beach she
      faces his back
and he sleeps
      oh he morning
          to smooth her hair

the smoothest of hair
      bed linen she so

when he is the loveliest of boats
      his turned shoulder on pleats
          sand falling
this wood bend

her damp knees closer
      the cloth sun is weather
          and she high land

Copyright © 2005 Tory Dent All rights reserved
from Black Milk
Sheep Meadow Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission