buoys bob in chilled water ocean song invites me wade in this sea steep in aquatic surrender soul swims in a saline soundscape the familiar swish the familiar forgetting weightless and empty absent when present
with my marbled marine memories
on seas of solitude
bobbing in the waves
of our weary global compassion
hearts slowly sink
parties cancel
weddings postpone
gatherings cease
there is no church
there is no brunch
there are no sundays
only damp monday evenings
tv and canned soup, alone
the mound of ivy and thorns i ripped from the ground yesterday lay outside my door
last night the vines wrapped round my ankle, careening their way up my calfÂ
they crept and crept, higher and higher up my pale winter leg
the naked wineberry brambles sought to make a potion out of me
the hairs of their stems sunk into my supple skin, nibbling every inch
coarse, tiny daggers bit into the flesh of my thigh,
and the little bastards drank me all up.Â
my sweet blood for their water.
my nutrients for their concoction.
vining their way closer to my vulva
vying for more sustenance - they paused
i may keep that - for myself - for now
the vines retreat back towards the ground
each thorn plucking itself free, liberating my limbs
as they crawl back down to the pile of clippings in my back yard under the oak tree