Tuesday, 7 January 2014


Love, I am not here.
I swear I stand
On the narrow strand
Between the sea of salt
And the sea of sand;
And out of the mist
Loom leprous cliffs
Dark hulls list
Landwards as
The slow dawn flickers
And the dark shapes
Of the wild horses filters
Through tossing
Nervous manes
As velvet mouths snicker
And mumble at the
Edges of the kelp
Slack limbs abandoned
By scornful tides
On the sand.

In the surf
Slick furred seals
Sensuous and sly
Submerge with
A derisive wave
Of agile flippers
And slide through
Green dreams
Of watery ice.

I trail my toes
Through the damp
And as I rise to dance
I hold high
To give you
A teasing glance
At the glimmer
Of rainbows
I harvested
Cupped in my hand.

Manuela Cardiga

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