It is like saying goodbye again.
This is the longest I’ve been away from her
since she was delivered like a hot brick
into my husband’s arms.
We are flying from four years
of investigating her death. I think
even the turquoise of the Caribbean
can’t bring me back from the tiredness.
But I calm to the white sand, the tiny shells, so similar,
so different to the ones on Filey bay. I watch
the diamond shadow of a sting ray, gliding gently in its world.
I climb the hot stone ruins of Tulum,
wade the warm sea, swim in cenote,
drink margaritas on the beach.
I make an offering to the Mayan Gods; have her name set
in Mayan silver, hieroglyphics on a piece of black stone,
and I wear it round my neck, watch it glitter as I swim in the perfect blue,
feeling guilty I can’t dandle her legs in the sea.