Monday, 10 January 2011

The Day the Day Drowned

The empty plastic carrier bags
Search and scour, the sand
Dunes: the eternal labrinth,
The spirits of dead dogs
Searching for lost owners,
To which they are all
Long forgotten,
Rekindled only in mistakes
Spoken, in deaf ears
About death to dumb dogs.

Condensation rolls in, across
Skies flooded with ambivilance,
The ominous hue of grey
Across the window pane,
Uncleaned, the glint of white
Teeth through smeared glass,
Tears burdensome yet benign
Lose grip, slipping off
The face;
A million craters in the sand.

The hypodermic nip
Of Ammophila, through polyester
And skin, a silent itch
with no face to blush,
As they applaude, Cheering
In the wind,
The rusty coke cans
And tampons, lying
At their feet.

A Laridae queues, silently
In the zephyr,
As a couple of corvids
Crouching over,
Rotten remains of a mermaid,
Stripped and naked
She slowly melts,
Back into the earth, Alone
Forgotten from birth.

Frayed rope anchored
By the rock, telling tales
Of frayed loves,
And curses, spat out
From the mouths of men,
Swept overboard in the storm;
Purged from the land
To be purged from life,
The cruel puppetry, of bodies
Bobbing and beckoning in the sea.

From wet lips the wet tongue,
Suffocating kisses, Against her
Sandy breasts and thighs;
Legs spread, edging towards
The shore, giving herself
Like a cheap whore, Taken
Without emotion, only remorse
Is left, the tide turns
Down a beach of withered rock,
And empty shells.

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