Tanka by Liam Wilkinson

before leaving

I notice the brush -

our hair tangled

in a clump

of blonde and brunette

suddenly we stop yelling

at one another

to hear

that part of the symphony

we both love

this morning

I have forgotten

all that isn’t

the silence

of this cathedral

the piano

on the radio

begins

heaving saltwater

into the room

out of date posters

for out of date shows

flutter in the sea wind -

our memories

litter the promenade

at the sea-view restaurant

the food is terrible,

the drink is watered down -

so you eat the cliffs

and I sip the swash