Still
wet
after Rachael Boast
I wake, still wet,
from the place I went
in my sleep. Stand up, pad across the floor,
leaving damp prints. The stone I touched is not here.
I could breathe, my
mermaid mind magnified
thought into
song. Now in the morning light
I am beached, my
ears full of liquid,
muffling my voice.
I had no net, no way
to bring what I
learned back with me.
Words, like so
many pockets, incapable
of holding the
rush and foam of the deep.
Note: Rachael Boast is a wonderful poet whose work
I greatly admire. She is published by
Picador, in the UK. This draft is
inspired by some wonderful new poems of hers just published in the summer
edition of Poetry London magazine.
I like especially the hallucinatory feel of this poem and the way you meld the real and the dream. And thank you to the mention of Rachael Boast.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Gail. Do you know Rachael Boast's work? It's amazing and she has a new book coming out in the northern autumn.
Deletewow, great poem, and I must say, I often wake like this :) Thanks for the heads up re: RB's work, too.
ReplyDeleteBrilliant poem! I love the water-soaked atmosphere of it.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Rachael. I often find, no matter how hard I try for it to be different, many of my poems end up water-soaked.....
Delete