The Ocean And I At The End Of The World
I was there- where the sand starts to spill over,
My toes splayed out across the cold tar,
The marram grass combing the sky in riots.
I was there with the sea in my eyelashes,
The bomb heat rippling over my bare back,
Fingers groping the chasms of my empty pockets.
I was there, the wind fresh on my open shoulders,
Blowing stinging life inside my beating highways,
Passing through every hole I’d dug out.
I was there at the edge of the sea,
Knocking on the front door,
Begging to be let in.
more by NOELLE CURRIE
photograph from unspalshHire An Editor