transubstantiation: from earth to air

a pressed flower is a lost kiss,
she said, scuffling her toe, dragging it in cross-hatch
in the sand,
it's an art, for the wallflower bold, the ones who
are dizzy for loneliness, but never show more than
a shy smile

; she stooped to pick a shell, finger traced its ear lobe
studying its soft curves, the milky cream tea colours
the ring of blue on its lip
- she raised it to the sky, as if admiring a fine gemstone
consecrating it as host
the sky moodily squawked a seagull's reeling cry back -
amen _

shrugging her shoulders, the shell ruched its ridged spine
as she put it to her lips, her wish whispered
carried on the wind, she mimicked a kiss
sending it skipping back along
into the water, -
this is where you belong, eventually
she said,
so do I