Record this you say and I’m left
in the shallows, holding your phone.

And I capture it all – the moon
low and lush as a forbidden fruit,

you, striking light after light
as you cross the bay, the way

your face, as you turn to wave,
is star-varnished like that of a god.

Before you upload, before the flurry
of likes for this phenomenon,

there’s a moment when your world
is gleaming in my hands. Tonight

I would gulp down the blooming ocean
for a taste of your skin.

‘Phosphorescence’ by Victoria Gatehouse


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