|
Red Tide
‘It’s your life,’ the psychiatrist tells me.
‘Have you put a nail up yet?’ She laughs. ‘What is it you want from us?’
‘Some people should be
steamrolled slowly from the feet up,’ the psychologist says. She runs a finger across her throat, and smiles.
Black beetle,
black cat, rat running across the bathroom floor.
White lights shine out of paper,
blue lights in the air. Yellow lights appear on people’s heads.
Drops of blood appear
on my hands and clothes, ants through desert sand.
Angels like carrier pigeons
darken the sky.
A postcard
came this morning soaking wet:
Resolution in the sea.
Cherry tree. Fish eggs, dulse & carrageen.
Silver tongued, catching
tiny fish, messages delivered in serrated teeth.
Now just you wait
with your mermaid scales desiccating.
Buried in the sand
eyes open waves washing over the top of you.
All this life
blooming in the water,
all this life
blooming in water.
|