Cockle

 It was then that I ran to to docks.

Through the grey and the cold,

the pine trees and your shrill voice flashed in my periphery.

I stopped, out of breath and heaving, staring at the sea.

I wanted to tell you that we all had salt in our throats,

the kind that hung so heavy in the fog;

that it rained here all the time, but we were always so thirsty and sore;

that is had been that way since the Water came

and left only grief and the stench of fish.

But these words stayed water-logged in my chest,

checked by my corroded tongue.

So, I kissed you instead

and struck you dumb.