child crawls into my bed
at 1am
don’t know why
bad dream?
lie there
with that tiny flame
of joy
thinking how before
I’d have been…
now I’m sane
next morning
wake early
and run
through the rain
endless liquid
absorbed easily
in sand
no glass of wine
competes with wild
wind and waves
drink the moment
shake my head
at empty beer bottles
that roll and smash
on picnic tables
the drunk won’t see
beauty here
in this moment
just for me
Photo: Claire Doble
Burst of glitter
clitter clatter
click-slip wince
sharp edges shatter
a thousand bits of
shiny sugar
danger lurks
in tiny matter
it could be
sand, or crushed ice
carve your name
on a grain of rice
toss it away
at the beach,
not nice
microscopic microplastic
that’s your glitter
on my fish bone
saw your mark there
next to mine
since God said
“have dominion
over every thing”
do not question
sparkle-shard ephemera
you’ll find our glitter
for millennia
Soundcloud recording: https://soundcloud.com/clairevetica/glitter
there’s a rush, a wash
and I’m freefalling
can’t hold on to thoughts
not supposed to
what do I grab?
nothing
to do
don’t think this or
don’t think that
too much landing
on my mat
let it go, the next right thing
slipstream
could be lethal
how does it end
let alone begin
Photo: Claire Doble
I learnt permanence from the beach
the way the sand never shifted
and the dunes stood still
a dead spike-backed fish
forever there, the arcs of tides
ancient and fixed
I learnt love from the sea
constant, predictable
ever reliable
turn your back, nothing happens
risk free
and the rocks, so orderly
I learnt life from the wind
always that solid blue
careful, unchanged
no cloud-claw wisps
nor breeze-tossed leaf
to mar my view
Bushfire moon
an eye prickly with tired
in the night
things expire
by day
the sand’s a ribcage and
there’s always dead things on the beach
is it unusual?
Embarrassed, shy by my
disconnect
I do not know
I’ve been away
it takes a year but
didn’t ask
in case
no one has noticed and
I’m afraid
what that might mean
I didn’t set out to write a series of ‘bushfire’ poems but I guess I did and it seems appropriate for this time of year in NSW, Australia as we’re suffering some bad fires at present. Where I am is OK, we are safe, but there’s smoke in the air most days.
Photo: Claire Doble
under a bushfire sun
tumbled in love
for a moment
with a footprint in the sand
sharp big-toe
like a spade, a trowel
I thought
of salt-touselled hair
a broad board
under sun-brown arms
light shining from
sea spray
running past
her trapped wing
half buried
desperate, poignant
flying here
smoke-choked
feather-singed
to die
Photo: Claire Doble
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