The Shining Amphitrite
What he forgot
while he was lying
on the beach
wriggling his toes
in the warm sand
thinking it pliable
with the sensual
hand-in-hand,
was that given
enough heat,
sand melts,
becomes glass,
not so pliable
it has the capacity
to break and shatter,
worse,
when you consider
all things
about
sharp edges,
it can hurt
unintentionally,
walking barefeet,
either way it
has the capacity to
make people
bleed,
add in a little
lightening,
weaponised
fulgurite,
caught in the middle
of all that,
you
could crumble
like Lot’s wife
looking back,
trying to find
an ounce of good
in a grain of sand,
abandoned
with the sting
of salt in wounds
split wide open
laid useless
under a merciless sun
I’d rather be
a very deep
cool
ever-changing
kaleidoscopic
sentient
blue ocean,
in command
rolling over the sand
bringing it back out with me
I'd carry it in my mouth in my mind
keep it wet
where it would live
inside the urgency
of my crashing body
to dance with it in the flow
transporting it to other realms
on the slippery backs
of smooth skinned
dolphins,
swallowed
in the slick, sharp
wide open smiles
of the ancient
megalodon
looking for his
lost teeth,
where there, he's gone
all Neptune,
chasing sirens
and their pearls
seeking amongst
the foamy wash
of them all,
the shining
Amphitrite
Candide Diderot. ‘24
"Milk", Garbage.
Copyright © Candide Diderot | Year Posted 2024
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