The selkie cries a silent pulsing cry:

the sound of crashing waves upon the sand.

The tide and time are passing slowly by

for her, the stolen woman bound to land.

She salts the earth with every spiteful tear,

at night he tastes the brine upon her tongue.

He tastes and takes and only gives her fear

and bitter hurt which comes from trust now stung.

Her ‘husband’ sleeps; the ocean dances free.

She searches for the the second skin she peeled

the day he came, when she embraced the sea,

when she thought the waves would be her shield.

A gleeful 'finders keepers’ spoke the thief.

He took her, naked. She will give him grief.