Not of the sea,
blood and bone and gravity,
horses drag on skirts which billow wet away from me.
No-one asked me here.
Yet I walked,
fell from leaden, sullen, sorry concrete corridors,
fell from trees in fields of green and fell from that I know.
It felt like home.
Out of water writhe and roll and gasp and gulp and twist,
slam and thrash and glass eye arch of bruised and burning gills.
While time ticks.
I'll make it,
Sea and sweep and tidal creep by creak of taller ships.
You can watch me read this poem as part of the monthly Virtual Open Mic Night
hosted by the lovely Stephanie of Beautiful Misbehaviour.