I want to come back as a wave
that in summer breaks in on beaches
full of people and fibrolite baches;
stroke delicate down, slowly
slip off your tiny bikini.

I want to come back as a wave
that scatters among the bathers
go down as they come up for breathers
splatter and spume at their ankles
make every body beautiful.

I want to come back as a wave
so always near, so out of reach,
so when they run back up the beach
their glowing bodies fading home
my salt will still be upon them.

I want to come back as a wave
that in winter moves on.
No one will know where I’m gone.
I will cruise some desolate part
say Shag or Puysegur Point.

I want to come back as a wave,
regather forces, spend myself;
in the spring, move in on estuaries
attend to the mating of stingrays –
tidal, lengthening days.
I want to come back as a wave.
And though I love the estuaries,
bare coasts and autumn memories –
I want to lift you now and float you
as you, too, come as a wave.