I fill the spaces, big as oceans

with little things

hold back a tidal bore of absence
with a matchstick dam
until, I see you
neck deep and choking
first heels, then tiptoes
leave the floor
and I am shingle dragged
half drowned; half swimming
to your shore.



Filed under Creative

4 responses to “Shingle

  1. You have amazing eyes (if that’s you up there!?)
    But since these are the main features of your main face on your main head I bet you are bum-squealingly bored of being told that.
    Judging by this poem I would say the contents of your main head are pretty amazing too.
    Which counts for a lot more I think πŸ˜‰

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