By | 3 February 2024

Hands bleed estuary light after the fifth
miscarriage, brackish, pebbles dancing

across the water surface, land to salty sea
my failing body, counting heartline

lifeline, when will the water turn
the moment when you know.

I’ve been practicing entering face first
cold immersion, reappearing it’s me

eyes closed for re-emergence
push pull against a tide, softening.

Today all solids have become liquid
waves, fluid energy, it’s still possible

only just to see demarcations
melting sky pastels like an outline of hope

but it’s illusory. Shape is determined
by particles moving. There are no lines

no colour, there is only wind on the surface
a temporary point of entry, immersion.

Today’s loss, tomorrow’s armful
imagined before another plunge.

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