ocean dances like the dirt bike on ridgacre road,
lustful and longing and silent at noon.
ocean pulls at my feet, collecting heavy steps
and heartbreak for children to play with.
ocean watches parents argue over where the wind
catcher should go, whose turn is it to collect change,
who will end up on the sofa later.
ocean tells me I’m funny, cutting through waves
to remember the way you couldn’t swim.
ocean takes me to your favourite beach
where we got swallowed by the wind,
you a little taller than the night before.
I think ocean wants to drown me, take me
by the throat to forget. forget the way
that sand tastes, forget how joy is a slow
burner, forget the way we would be back
in a year.
Follow Beth on Instagram and Twitter at @ragdollbeth. Follow Beth’s literary magazine on Instagram at @lemoncurdmagazine.
0 comments on “beachside caravan park by Beth Phillips”