[not the imagined :chink:
but something altogether more]
her right hand feels the weight
her hollowbody feels the wait
-somehow everything comes back to the exquisitely slow
moontide, the ripening and rotting of other seeweeds
so EXOTIC and unknown and all together not her.
some other bones hinging
from some other spinestack.
clatterbacked
pea.on.a.drum
raT a Tat Tat
the sand blows in from the marshes, brackish and testing
here the oystercatcher
spoons through the silty shallows
islander
slimed causeway
S O S lined neatly in stones
and a sea so flat and wide as to stil her blood
Awestruck, I am. Literal magic. You are beyond compare, simply the most beautiful, dense, creative and complete poet anywhere.
Hello sweets, you know everything I could say. No-one compares. xxx
This really is something special, all these words arranged so beautifully, in ways no one else would have thought to do so.
I came by from gingatao’s site, but I’m marking the page for further exploration.
Wonderful work, I must say.
wonderful descriptions, very atmospheric and always nice to see an oystercatcher fly through a poem