crossing by Julian Dobson

a wave is not a wave
it is a heave of surf, a tilt, a wash
of dead men’s eyes

a wave is not a wave
it’s the tense and slip of skin
of knuckles, clinging to an upturned boat

a wave is not a wave
it is a slide into a dark,
kingfisher flashes, the last sight of blue

a wave is not a wave:
that man who whispers ‘swamped’
has no seawater in his lungs

x does not mark the spot
of drowning – but in a wooden booth
it draws a line, a loss, a poison kiss

Julian Dobson lives in Sheffield and blogs at https://52poemsinayear.wordpress.com

One thought on “crossing by Julian Dobson

  1. Pingback: crossing | 52

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