Oceans stand pale and placid -

rivers race to the sea.

We once sung about the water of life

in cold school hall assemblies.

But as I meander down this flow,

I wonder what happens when we go?

The inevitability of life’s current,

flying high and surrendering low.

I wade in the w...

Unused swords rust

like your feather quill,

dipped in dry ink,

that scars the paper;

leaving marks that do not last,

merely dent the page,

when words were meant

to cut through.

You ask for the world,

but you don’t have to.

Your words belong on the altar –

you kneel, exhausted,

in...

- after Chen Chen

Rest among the samphire.

Hum poseidon under your breath.

Practice how to breathe underwater.

Vex the sand. Disrupt it. Become it.

Crunch it between your toes.

Adorn yourself in oyster tongues.

Go far. Go farther.

Excavate where others have been before.

Bl...

today is no different to yesterday

because the shaking in his veins hasn't subsided yet,

because his trousers still crumple (no matter how they are hung),

because he still has a hair for every

thinning, grey year he stays alive.

he wonders if cafes mock him

for always lea...

When Smyrna fell, we rose from the chairs

our grandfather made and grew unsure

what to call ourselves. We—who’d always

broken bread with them and stuttered

strange Turkish vowels—

found ourselves nervous at the picture

window watching their horses and soldiers

leaping at the...

They are never so beautiful as now:

lustrous with light and water,

a succession of small startles

shining in the dun matt sand.

Blown bubbles wander up

from the waveline, skate on waterfilm

which holds the piebald sky,

the adolescent April sun.

I walk on blue-white heavens.

I b...

Into your loneliness

we place our voices,

hoping our words

might comfort your wounded heart.

We do not mean

to remind you

of all you have lost

by extolling the manifold virtues

of your husband

now gone, but we are foolish

in the face of grief,

never knowing whether

to share our ow...

She Rinsed

the breakfast dishes

as her children were leaving,

they left two moist goodbye-kisses

on her cheek. She plunged her hands into hot water,

awakening a thousand little scars. Now, the bed sheets were clean.

She was surrounded by all types of water, not blue skin...

What have those watery globes

in industrial goggles seen?

Frozen lakes, dance halls, unexpected

Goodbyes, I’m sure.

Locked vaults of anaesthetic and no

combination. You’ve trapped me in those unbroken

codes.

I know you want to forget,

but every mispronunciation

reminds me of wh...

Bed’s creaking.

He’s up.

Why are you still up?

He’s down.

Downstairs

Why do you feel so down?

-

Don’t you have work in the morning?

-

Clink clink.

Guts pour down.                                       TV blares....