I built a tiny cross of birch
on the ocean shore
where she took all her lovers,

lit a lantern there at dusk,
told myself I could go on
if it still shone at dawn.

It did.
I said a second night
would bring another day.

At sunset, marauders burned
the cross, blew out my lantern,
carried it off.

I felt warm sand
open herself to moonlight.
She moaned softly in the night.

Timothy Pilgrim