Coastal Drift

 

coastal drift pixabay
Pixabay.com

 

Sucked out
of my cave, I
am forced to drift
on a coastal tour of
changing appearances
seagulls that metamorphose
into layers of rock that fracture;
flints that live on through
bleeding hearts that drip
and dry, becoming one with
the sand that drifts into a
child’s bucket and turns all
palatial. I run and run, on
and on, from one beach that
runs into another. I have
seaweed hair that streams
out behind me, held up by
the wind, kiting me over
sandstone cliffs, turning
me into a mortal goddess,
until, exhausted, I bleed and
drip into the sand, and a
blood-red grain of my
existence drifts
back home.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, February 2019

Inspired by the poem ‘Prayer Severing the Cycle’, by Donte Collins.

 

Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: