Pier Pressure 
Second poetry and short story competition 2004
Pier Pressure
by Sylvia Travis
Muslin curtains whisper in the breeze
veiling the stretch of beach and curling waves.
Abandoned deck chairs arch striped backs
awaiting rediscovery.
Early bathers dip and shiver in the yellow light of a new day
then huddle in the warmth of waiting towels.
A horse full tilts through foaming shallows
the rider curved over the streaming mane.
I turn into the lapping comfort of this room
and watch you lying there, a stranger still.
Curves of white in the rumpled mass of linen sheets,
mascarared lashes clumped in fallen arcs.
Hair webbed black over your sleeping face,
your mouth the spider at its heart.
An arm flung sideways to a table with its still lit lamp,
fingers trailing in the juice of last night's fruit.
When you wake I shall be gone.
You will smile, and turn, then sleep again.