JAMES LEWIS, Department of Philosophy, University of Sheffield

Just as our thicket is
such a tangle of fool’s parsley, briars
so the sea soft grey face
is thick with jellyfish,
a countless hoard of unthought vowels
in choral silence

Here, blessed, washed in silver
light off the sea
I catch for once the whispered
throb from somewhere:

To scamper quick into the thicket
clasping hands and let
the low leaves slick water onto our thighs
and the hem of your shorts