The Beach In Winter’s Morning

By Lizzie Simner

The jellified mind melds and unmelds
Ideas drip from her sky like mercury
Boy/girl/fish/bird
What is it?

She walks to the beach, alone
Yellow zippo lighter in hand
A bud of flame, an offering to the gods.
Someone is listening.
She holds a pebble in her hand.
Egg.

Reaching, reaching
She no longer reaches from the sky
But from a horizontal line
That pushes her
To the side of her own life.

She looks out to the intersection of green and pale grey
The frame she is in
is quivering, alive and horrifyingly bright
Morning is coming, she knows,
To cast light on the ineluctable truth
Morning is coming,
And she’s afraid.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s