E
when your ocean was new
first, drunk the light.
when your scars, fresh
— raw and not yet
to cover
came round; soft,
white as candlesticks, alight,
in moss.
the sea round the side, swaying
whitecapped and whipping
frothing from the moon’s pull.
when your ocean was new
first, drunk the light.
when your scars, fresh
— raw and not yet
to cover
came round; soft,
white as candlesticks, alight,
in moss.
the sea round the side, swaying
whitecapped and whipping
frothing from the moon’s pull.