Under the pink sky dulled by the fumes of the train,
stand a little closer to me, darling.
People sea swallows you and I have lost track
of how high the sea’s rising out here.

Though undiscernible above metal clang,
I say “I’ll meet you at the beach at seven,”
but when the windswept sky is so, so loud,
I forget the tide. And I forget the voicemails it left.

I wade through coffee-soaked mornings,
and say. “hold me a little closer, dear.”
The sea has poured itself into my dress,
I wring my limbs out into warm air.

My cold toes are late to the sand.
As pink goes red, I say, “hold me.”
Red sky at night, Shepherd’s delight.
Red sky in the morning,