Swanning

We rest our heads together
amongst crisp packets and empty tins;
crowd in front of shop shutters until
the hustle of feet force us on.

Tonight,
we’ll sleep on a shore of broken bottles,
undressing under crescent light

before retreating
to the dreams
of hushes and moans
we hear like water through shells, like
the breath through tussled reeds,

until the sea shoos us from
these jagged rocks.

We swan.