August 20, 2007

It’s a beach
and I can see the grain of the sand
through the paper,
and the sea is encroaching
onto the sand – lines of blue,
like the dune’s being framed
by solid slithers of water;
like an artist
has been thinking out loud on the sand,
like it’s paper.
I am thinking of turtles.
I am thinking of turtles
because my friend Tim,
was talking about turtles,
turtles being born on the beach
and crawling on fins to the blueness.
The sea in this picture
is a ribbon of blueness.
The sky is in circles
of blueness.
I wish I was a turtle.
I want to fly into it.

One Response to “Postcard”

  1. I adore this but am not sure it requires the last two lines. I sort of don’t want the narrator there, as if N’s wish is the purpose of the movement towards it. The repetitions are marvellously evocative of waves and the blueness is roomy and comfortable.

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