I need you to bob in an unknown ocean with me,
to watch the walls of water and effortlessly climb their peaks.
From those heights we will see the volcano’s hands,
clawing their way across leagues of its own land,
while its fingertips pour themselves into the sea.
We will watch until the water warms around us.

Millennia later, after its fires have faded and cone collapsed,
I will carry you amongst the new sand dunes,
my never bride, your forever shephard,
wearing a hairshirt - for the cold
and a blindfold - for the surprise.
And I will worship you in that desert.

Years after the sands freeze we will watch the snout of a glacier,
shaved bloody and thin by the sea’s sharp blue razor.
We will silently watch its first slaughter,
and bob once more among its melt water.
Grown cold again while we watch it crumble,
helpless in the lap of the gods,
broken, pitted and pocked,
in spectacular death we will drink the glacier’s last thunder.