By the sea

Down by the seaside
they said would be best.
My mind, still crawling the wall,
is distracted enough not to care.

Though I have been washed out,
laundered ‘til dryer than apricot,
I can feel her flickering now.
My arms ache to hold on.

They do not understand my silence.
Staring, I hold up my Persil bio face
to the mirror. Does it reflect their hopes,
my lies, their dreams, my nightmares?  

I would be a fool not to hate
all she had created,
her violet kisses,
haunting my creases,  

hollow in my collarbones
matching my crevice cheeks
tear-streaked from longing.
I will go and suck the ocean!  

Better a bitter salted lemon
than watch you running
brown eyed, red dressed,
through a field of forsythia
that will burn at your funeral.

© Copyright 2012 Abigail Baker

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2 responses to “By the sea

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