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