ME AND THE SEA

I looked and watched sea in all its glory,

I thought I heard it speaking.

Slightest murmur and faint rush beneath the stillness,

Stillness of the bay, as it lay constrained in its

Temporary straight jacket,

Not hospital white, but a slick purple black,

As if dyed for disguise.

It spoke but without a mouth or tongue or voice

Like a terror stilled face,

Like a burn.

But at sunrise the sea was signal

The burnished surface of a God composed of multitudes of

Shining bee-stung eyes.

Dawn comes and goes

Like a woman rising from her bed

And then returning,

The bed-linen softening with the

Constant downpour of love and its

Eternal nectar and dreams, and

Those orgasmic sighs and sweat-laden pants.

Daylight like a pox mark

Where rocks lie like road-side beggars,

So publicly exposed.

And at night there’s the moon’s brightness

Siphoned off by the shore lights as if

Sickening.

The low roofs of the tattered beach shacks,

Poised as hunches that don’t spring.

That won’t ever,

Ever spring while a light fluorescence

Of municipal lights.

Spreads beneath the landscape of a

Beautiful village, a colour of

Deep green water,

Water of the sea

HOME                                                     Poem# 3