By R.J. King
Right now cool sand runs through our tingling toes
Against the nettling spray, brace lips of salt
Icy waves current through our heating veins
Wetted hair flanks cheeks like brackish sea weed
We form the prow of a wrecked ancient boat
Air chains and stinging rime whip round our skin
On edge we’re perched and framed by dusky time
We are the sea and the sand and the sky
Clarity sharpens up the sandbar shapes
As whiteness seeps through us with skindeep waves
Our eyes aflow with wash of water blue
Seapower and skymight link within the swirl.
Time stands distilled; we stand as stone statues
Salt -centred by fatal force of sand drift
(Image by Samuel Scrimshaw on Unsplash)
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