Versova Beach

Versova Beach

Versova Beach

Last night was something else.

The sea licks the face of a sky,
trawlers in the cold shadow of clouds
and two black birds.
A woman in green and gold
searches for crabs and perfect shells.
Another morning leaves
her watermarks on my nape and eyelashes
and lines my womb
with her unformed delta.

Such is the beauty in struggle
and hunger. Small boats flutter blue flags
of peace, economy, and I sniff
for distant thunders, spices and men –
from Africa, Oman, Afghanistan
and some unnamed islands
hidden in the large intestine of water.