For M
Lilac sky, lilac sea, false god ruins
overlooking endless calm waters.
A stone marker for sea farers and us,
watching the red sun set down the coast.
I pressed my mouth to yours in its gaze
and felt something holy and settling,
us two pieces of a century-old tradition
of young lovers kissing at the church,
at the cliffside, at the ocean,
promise and opportunity tangled
between our fingers.
The differences between us and our
forebearers are few; perhaps only the clothes,
and the car, and the farm of wind turbines
sat on the amethyst ocean plain.
The similarities are likely many:
the smiles afterwards, and the laughter,
and my hand in yours, pulling you
towards the beach.
Bethany Hart is afraid of heights, the dark and strangers. She also has a BA and MA in Creative Writing, leads writing workshops at festivals and day centres for homeless charities, and teaches occasionally at university level. Normally, she works to educate students in Higher Education on the climate crisis.