Bone white as driftwood, I stand sturdy

as the currents. The waves rush to shore,

collect against sugar mounds then fall

lacy back to the sea.

The ribbony pink sand diffuses light

to a soft ecru that coaxes abalone

and urchin shell to an ambient glow.

Soon the tide will devour the day and

night will descend, distorted and bowed,

like the curve of horizon that swallows

the sun in a wheel of sparks and the

moon that I made for you rises in

flecks of gold.

Saatchi Art “flecks of gold”