I tiptoe to the shore

A day absent from school spent alone by the sea under the rare sun causing serotonin levels to brim, exactly what I needed.. and that tramadol.

I tiptoe to the shore

Curious, round as a baby, wrapped in ivory

I wade, wondering how long  before I’m beckoned back in

It doesn't come, remembering

There is no one to call my name.

 It has been this way so long, I no longer recognise it.


Everywhere I go  I see puffins,   laughing clown eyes.

As the first lady steps to the edge, torch bearing seraph

 there comes a squadron of magpies chattering

 as the sweet  crust is thrown.


Glittering,full to the skull with soaring smiles

I make room for a slight obstruction.

Come little capsule, blissful chaos,

a million miniscule men run ,then march  starch and white

Kissing my blood,astounded

 I will remain and tend to the sea

she is my mother

 the reflected hollow face of the moon

Remaining until my spine turns to stone

my limbs then will follow, humiliated


Who has laid themselves bare upon this slab before me?

Who has warmed this stone

 Plucking the grass,

curling around their toes

 curious little hands,

 I am not here to recite fairy tales.

Were the shades of the sea in such extremity then?

Blending incoherent with the sky

but for some shredded  shrapnel            

 sapphire muscles           bloodied urchins              the algae screaming with joy!

Did the heron stand still , stately?

Stalking the waters’ lips  reciting affirmations.

 Where the fresh faced and haunted child

sensing creative bouts  dresses as Matisse’s’ ballerina  

  though bloated  and spasmic.

Where someone laughing in their sleep cried     Baudelaire! Baudelaire!

The End

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