Honeymoon at Weybourne

The cog rattle of the sea sucking
pebbles was so immense we almost

didn’t get in. We floated on a strong
tide which pulled us up the coast, away

from our things. After you’d had
your fill and left me to loll in the waves

I watched you watch me from the ridge,
blue in my towel against the burnt orange cliffs

and though the tide still pulled I didn’t drift.
I kept my eyes on you: marker, anchor, wife.