Grass along the coastline
I stood as stern
as the frame of a kite
that lick and loop
of brume came billowing
up and along
through my thin garb and I
nearly took to the air.
Instead I fell backwards,
without bending my legs or engaging my arms to catch my fall but fell,
with palms facing skywards
as if in alms.
(I was no longer a child of the seaside cliff
but was of that tangle and tinge of tawny yellows
now weaving themselves into the earth.
And the wind would grasp my chin
and I would feel two earthen hands
pulling me from behind the jut
and my arms would drag behind me
and my shirt haul up past my ears
and sod would growl beneath me
and steer into the wakes of my spine.
And soon I was ensky,
the two sinewy hands had flicked me into
and past the slope
where gravity cajoles
shoelaces and lets them unfold
as if a willow’s
And I was of that soupy umber now.
Now I was blushing into the sky,
that incarnadine melding into the horizon now.
was the heaving of a wave,
now a sigh,
now a susurrus
as a simper pleated across my face)
and I acquiesced to the dawn.