interested in gynaecology

are you a pedestrian
crossing that narrow inlet
of water,
once tormented by salmon
quick flickering to spawn,
no cars or vehicles
yet still you walk,
with a wake about your boots
head down,
light was changing,
and that thread of thought
was anchoring your brow down,
a kiss has a momentum
beyond the lips
carried on a narrow breath
that would never
bring you to a standstill,
salt on eyelashes
cast by the sea
tainting tongue
drying lips,
once clear
return to the cottage
owned by our cities
last blind man,
and wait at the glass