Maid of la mer

  • Posted on June 28, 2014 at 8:41 am

One finger tip one thumb
and a pinch of finest sea-dust
fallen in an age, storm-stolen, stilled

where was it when I was drowning?

Calm now as the silence depth brings
unvoiced and needless of air
reprieved not of towering waves

but the fear of breathing.

You have no idea how much noise
a drowning person adds out there
all arms, all legs, all desperation

and the relief when they are gone.

Imagine them half-sunk, tossed
slowly filling, absorbing ocean
in all their life-filled spaces.


Be honest, you tired of flailing limbs
since you turned back to safe shores
we both forgave the futility

imagined debts we never owed.

One moment we were laughing
swimming in a widening world
the next my feet seemed caught

grabbed to a gravity, a floor.

Now here I swim, gilled, serene and
reach to marvel at sea-dust in my hand
oblivious to white horses and sanctity of sky

this is my tail, and the scale of it.


2014 © Andie Davidson


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