what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice
cliffs chalked by the Atlantic
hung by the blind feeling of limestone
kilted by beds of kelp waist-deep in sea pools
fallen to converse with selkies
it was this in his eyes
me looking in
I’d be lost there, come up
for air, a handful of seconds
were really years
till his skies frosted
and all the nodding he did
to keep time with my tales
became all he did
and made me blink
just long enough
to smell the rime blue of mine
turn the green of fallow years
and here am I
a thousand thousand miles from what was
yet scarfed by the odd 3am skulking
still scrabbling in a box of ready rolled reasons
would not breathe water
one for the other
was reason enough
Image and poetry Alison Boyd © 2013.
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