Friday, 21 July 2017

White Stone

The day smiles all along the battleship coast,
coats and dogs, impending Monday gloom.

Strangers thaw, 
dare to transmit
from behind insect shields.

Cold splinters -

the sea parts long bones 
from sockets.
Sea meets sand 
and the sun 

pours bottle green 
on the foam horses.

Wooden steps 
and the wind’s tricks -

mistaken mermaids 
in the dream of silent talking
the sea holly timings gone all awry…

Sounds fall 
on the white sheet of the bed.
She draws white stone from velvet.

The stone offers two choices -

the answer waits for the sun
and the next day rings true

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