On the Marital Bed

when the ebbs and flows of our marriage

Ebbed so far out that the idea of the distant sea finally returning became a concept, not a prospect

Just as the tide’s retreat at Hunstanston beach, where the bleakness of that coast is confirmed by gloom and grey

Where the miserable shoreline recedes to a place where the dull North Sea is indistinguishable from the morose sky

Where just an occasional whisper of the long distant tide churning rises beyond sight behind the cold cries of gulls

It became my job to disassemble our bed

Thank goodness for the electric screwdriver

It took seconds to remove the thirty-two screws

I am grateful it came apart so easily

After the repeated failures we had trying to get it together

.

CLP 24/08/2019