Coastal Drift


coastal drift pixabay


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.

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