Tide – a poem from the virtual depths

I stumbled on an old folder of writing the other day with stuff dating back to around 2006. Most of it can never be seen by outside eyes, but I did stumble on a poem I wrote in 2014 that, quite frankly, I’ve fallen back in love with.

I don’t remember writing it, but I do know exactly where I must have been sitting when I wrote it: at the desk in front of the window of the room I stay in when I visit my parents’ house in Chichester, looking out onto a low tide.

* * *

Raw skin bared
glistening, drying
gully-veins flowing,
deltas weeping.

Clouds brush selves
on fractured glass
dappled green by
algae islands
holding breath
until moon-turn.

Sea slides back,
mirrors rivers
dark hulls lift
seaweed praises
seal slips in
mud awakens.




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