She arrived at night, when the setting was simple:
an empty beach, overcast. Some marram grass
growing in tufts like on an old man's head.
Details. For instance, she could hear the "clink, clink"
of a small boat by shore. Keeping time.
And the waves, rising like ribs. Counting.

Details. The cold sand on her feet. Her stepping
into the sea. Slowly. The fingernail moon, rising
in protest. But with no face by which to see.

Details. She removed her sari now. Here.
Where he had left his mundu, folded like a package.
That first night. Pressing her hips into the sand.
Slowly. Hands like oil. The taste of salt.
Slowly. Yellow lamps, flickering. Far away.

Details. Brown skin dazzling. Teeth
white as eggs. Funny, how we begin to remember.
She could see his smile in the dark.

Details. Afterwards, lying there. Arms wrapped in arms.
Lording over the small things. Remnants of a castle
in the sand. A blue crab with a big claw. The littlest king.

Details. She is alone now. Waiting.
Listening to the small boat keeping time. Clink. Clink.
Lonely as a big house. Big. With no footsteps inside.

Details. She came from the river, he said. Quietly.
She emerged from the water, shimmering
like a beautiful fish. So she stepped into the water now.
Slowly. Her muscles tired and long. Her body spreading out
like oil. She'd forgotten something, on land. Breathing.
She'd lost her fins, her shimmering scales. Left her sari
folded on the beach. Like a package.

Details. Waves rising like ribs. Rowing, endless rowing.
Arm after arm. In the horizonless night.
Slowly. Remembering how to breathe. Funny,
how we begin to remember. Slowly. Lamps
flickering in the distance. Slowly. Teeth, white as eggs.
Slowly. The sea, rising like a question in her mouth.