THE SNOT-GREEN (WINE-DARK) SEA
The winter-sharp brains of children
Took a turn for the worse,
Suffered an inferiority complex
Caused by all the old men: quick to criticise, slow to help..
Dispersed, triumphant solely in their dreams.
Children running across raging seas danced on the waves.
Such a storm-blessed salty awakening.
They had nothing to regret.
They were children who coped with HIV, nursed their mothers: .
The word ‘atrocity’ was expunged from their dictionary.
Elm trees were caw-caw-cawing with the rooks of old.
Nobody lied, not even the poets.
Blue wine stains penetrated my sleep.
The sea, infused with stars.
Slow rhythms predominated
The glare of the day persisted into night
The femininity of love was universally acknowledged.
Skies were bursting with surprise
Lightning, and the wind conspired for hours.
Beneath the waves, the exalted dawn was deja vu.
Sometimes she saw the same woman he saw.
The low sun was strained with all that gothik horror lacked,
Fact. The waves rolled off his shivering dream,
We rise to the eyes of the seas slowly.