Bowen

I remember no seasons,

no cold night, no hot day.

Skin wrapped in sweater or towel, everything was blue.

At once, we lived in salt,

in sand, in stone.

Towel on hot wet skin.

At night we watched the embers glow,

I am hugged in wool.

And then,

by day we lived in icy tide pools,

on rainy rocks,

on damp tightrope logs.

Arms stilled by layers of wool.

At night, the tub, our saviour,

numb bones, hot steam.

Towel on burning sogged skin.

I remember no seasons,

no hot night, no cold day.

Only the ocean,

your eyes,

stripped towel, hand knit sweater,

blanket sky,

and everything was blue.