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At first, there was the fog.
Thick silk beige smoke
was all
that could be heard
for miles and miles
on either side of sand dunes
I’d been allowed to love on.
I buried the whole of my head
Inside Hammam silence:
I missed, and missed, and missed in mist
in this blurry Thursday.
I lost my sense of sight
In favour of the music
That filled my running shoes,
The gaps between the waves,
The wrinkles of the sand diamonds.
Time got confused and absent.
The moment
I could have fallen asleep
While jogging
And perhaps I did:
The seagulls’ echo faded in the fog,
the sax and the guitar
Sank deep into each other
In one gruff jazz kiss –
Long, long, long, long
‘Lily was here’…