I stand awake in the grey pre dawn, wrapped in a shroud of resort sheets which trail behind me like a wedding train. Barefoot, I pad across the cool tiled floor of the hotel room to the curtains, drifting like a ghost through the shifting gossamer drapes.
The fabled tropical sun has not yet risen, the hazy light creeping up from beyond the horizon in advance of her appearance. The sea and sky are as grey as my eyes. The wind from the sea casting my hair about my head in a Gorgon’s wreath. You loved my hair in the mornings.
You loved me in the mornings.
Your bed is unslept in. Pristine. I couldn't so much as put my carry on bag atop it. I wish we had booked a king or queen… that empty bed just echoes inside me. Our clothes should be strewn across that comforter.
My clothes are alone on the sette.
There are sea birds' cries drifting in and out on the gusting wind, the grass-capped beach umbrellas fluttering like offended hula girls fleeing an angry Polynesian god. The sea demands its sacrifices of us all. I can feel my face slacken as my thoughts unwind, imagining virgins tossed to the frothing waves. You were fairer even than Andromeda, small wonder that the sea would take you as well.
The weight of you rests beneath my pulsing throat, cold and heavy against my breast. My mind travels down the things I must do today:
Rent a boat.
Face Poseidon.
Surrender my lover to him.
Surrender myself to him.
The gulls grow louder, mingling with the voices of early rising tourists off to their all-inclusive breakfast buffets, their bocci ball, their beloveds. I retreat from the balcony, the fingers of my right hand resting over your pendant urn.
I will sleep in with you today.
The sea can wait to have you.