Uisce beatha
I go to die with my Jack[collective suicide]
while some seagulls fly round
like vultures to non-life
and the sea enrages,
and I bury my feet
in its salty wrath
and the playful ways
of its waves,
while the sky comes over me
the sun fades
and my nipples
reach for the clouds
wanting to shut the lightning,
wanting to shout thundering;
but anticyclone wins the wrestle
and three rainbows
[from the back]
of my shoulders
cry out loud: stop!
The sea calms down,
the rain becomes friends
with my tears
and Argentina swims towards
in a liner
with an umbrella
and hot hands
and wet lips
to save me,
and the evening sun lays an egg
on the roof of my head
while the sand
tickles my soul
to a guffaw
and I again am my own.
Poetry by emily chambers
Read 1313 times
Written on 2008-04-29 at 00:07
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