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The Sea
Walking down the street,
I empty my pockets
of the sea I was looking
after for you. Mussels
come tumbling first,
cracking open their castanet
shells on the pavement.
Acres of seaweed and oysters.
Taking a deep breath,
I pour an ocean into the middle
of the road. Islands of people
and cars bob in the newly created sea.
Somewhere amongst this
is an old trawler. You are inside,
sending signals back to a lighthouse
forgotten in a trouser pocket.
(Previously published in Ballard Street Poetry Journal.)
Christian Ward is a London based poet who has appeared in
numerous online and print publications. He is currently studying
the final year of a degree in English Literature and Creative
Writing at Roehampton
University. |
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