Whitecaps rush,
translucent walls of violent sound,
to crash against the coast.
brutal caress,
your favorite method
of slaughter.

Nests plunge from the cliffs,
downy feathers and promise
consumed by the sea
as I crumble,
brought low in the storm-swell
of your rage.

My body lies silent—
sea-glass eyes fixed on the waves
that break
from your brow to my chest—
salt to scour barren skin.

The tide recedes, and you plant
seeds of yellow grass
in the earth of my flesh.
I thank you, for you say
it is to keep me warm.

Blades grow, pierce my skin
and bind me, limbs and leaves
to this scorched place
you leave, fallow,

I remain
tethered, and watch
as the blind sky seethes with gulls,
winging viciously white
to claw at the nettles
piercing my skull.