skip
stones in your eyes,
wade
past the shallow parts.
There
is no need for old north boats,
since
we have uncovered
our
own safe passage.
Baggage
drowns in the current;
a
selkie dons my wedding veil,
wonders
at so many shoes.
Spoon
the rest of the journey;
give
in to the tug of gravity,
the
low ache that drops like stone.
A
stormy berth is best, even though
you
are too civilized for thunder.
tk/August 2013
Thanks to R.A.D. Stainforth, taking time from his holiday in Shetland to read this poem.
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| photo by Elena Kalis |
