It was there all along, great peace,
I wear it again, I turn around in it.
What changes inside when the spark lights,
the fizz of a match coming up,
candles growing their yellow robes.
Curled up cottonball alone and warm,
at sea, rowing sporadically,
it feels like shipwreck and being found,
it feels like round rings falling into round.
On Limantour beach
I pay for concealment with dollars of sand,
birds fly the razor breaks of the waves,
I can find what I placed in the dark
I can dive by the light of Venus.
I like where I am sitting now,
but at your door I got shy,
left after knocking lightly.
One day you might hold me
in your piano hands
life all arpeggios and resolving chords.
©Sara Berkeley, from Strawberry Thief (2005, Gallery Books)