I remember
your body
and how as I brushed my lips
on the abalone shell
translucent
curvature of your
shoulders,
ribs
and hips;
I could taste the ocean.
Two days past
I walked on a beach of driftwood
and plastic
looking for worn glass
amongst the detritus
blue pieces favoured
‘mermaid tears’
a green shard smoothed down came home with me.
I wake up
and never seek you next to me
I never wanted love to be
about beds
and debts
and laundry.
Long since your absence
I have reflected and refracted hoping to find light
again.
Wherein it was not.
I am a shatter
hard bitten reality comes with a clatter
I smart
as I sit by with people who show me
honest affection
and flinch at each kind word they utter.
The thunderclap that winds me,
as the lead words drop in my stomach,
meant to be well wishes, sunk to wells of anxiety.
Today I tasted the the ocean
on my own lips
without you.
I remember your body,
yet
it seems I forget
your
cruelty
too quickly.
Sionnachaí 