crucifixion
romantic supper for two
tent pitched beside a sea loch
camping over the Easter holiday
later that night
a storm arises
I peer out the tent flap
watch the tide
edging closer and closer
driven before the wind
lose my nerve
imagining us washed away
I uproot the tent
carry it on my back
up the track to higher ground
she follows in the car
re-erected on the mountainside
our tent now about to be
blown (rather than washed) away
spend the rest of the night
holding the tent frame together
my arms outstretched