The road winds down to the sea,
to the chalky path steep and narrow.
The ocean’s an impossibly, intense blue,
my footprints soon disguised, then buried
by the soft, shifting sand and the wind
singing among the sea grass on the dunes.
At the edge of the sea, lace-like bubbles,
hydra heads of foam, lick at my feet.
Then the water’s knee high, the waves
angry, resentful at meeting this sudden barrier.
Now I’m a shell, half covered in sand,
a wig of green seaweed over my head.
Then, a crab, scurrying to be buried
in the ridged sand which mimics
and records the constant pattern of the waves.
Now a mermaid, I flick my scaly tail,
while porpoises dive and dance above.
The music of the sea is soothing, silvery toned.
A giant sea turtle cruises above me,
holding up the weight of the world.
Shoals of tiny fish swim past me,
a handful of silver coins spinning
in the dark depths of the ocean.
I dive down to the waving forest,
dark and deep, here are giant weeds
waving wearily as tides rise and fall.
Here are my own monsters, dark hulks
gliding sinuously, open-mouthed,
white teeth, barbed tombstones.
I swim down a red, fiery gullet,
into a gigantic maw.
I wake in darkness,
the dawn, a thin line of light,
a horizon below the dark curtains.
