Unfinished Sentences Poem by Michael Cayley

Unfinished sentences
eddy, now loud, nor murmured, as the
short breath catches her.
She prefers solitude where memory lies
unshaken by the gusts of the present
but knows she needs the meals we prepare.
When we change the sheets
she frowns at our grosser appetites
and apotheosises her too-human past,
as the sea rewrites itself,
erasing storm, shipwreck and shallows
to resume unsleeping placidity,
creased like an old face.