Monday, March 2, 2009

A Wave

Now I remember what I dreamt. The wave came to its crest
and was a brilliant animal rearing up
at a barrier, blasting my ears with its roar.

The living froth poured vision. The lit spray contrived a crown.
It halted, swivelled, and in vacant agony
stood tearing itself out of its own time-deep bowels.

It collapsed -- a flung and shattered clay jar;
innumerable lost seashells flying, spiralling whitenesses
around what melody they could. Then the snarl

and the thud of the whole bulk hitting the shingle gulley.
It slung up the beach a foam of running marrow, whispering.
And now the bed, desk and chair hold their notes,

while the small clock ticks to calm a wildly lonely child.
The itinerant particles of dust, lying sparkling on the floor,
seal in what makes the child cry out and the darkness smile.

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