Port Albert honeymoon
a tanka sequence
a smooth ray
sliding under the pier
stirs sand plumes
beneath its undulations –
I think of buried pipis
we lean
on the car bonnet
eating scallops –
red-legged gulls squabble
over discarded chips
that night
in an airless motel room
silent in the dark
we each try to imagine
what the other is thinking
years later
on a Sunday afternoon
our daughter
feeds the gulls with us
searching for cockleshells