wave-jump, 1/May/17

they call me wave-jumper,
jumper of the waves…..
racing its insurgent breath in and out…
skin of granules pebble-dashed…
crushing crushed fragment underfoot….

discards lone surrendered by the sea

you’ll find me…
on the strand picking stones and dropping them, picking stones and dropping them staring out to sea as far as the eye can see as far as I can see in haunted expectation… something, something has to break the spell, the swell, break through these pelagic moods…….

you’ll find me…
writing in the sand my name that no one knows that soon gets washed away as quick as I can write every letter every word unseemly dragged and smeared across the shore, a smudge of thought that won’t be staunched and bleeds away as though it wasn’t there at all silencing a voice….

I’m not here,
I never was……

you’ll find me…
just a figment of a story no one’s told yet, and likely no one will, a scattering and smattering of algae, spray abandoned by the waves…

you’ll find me…
there between the high and low, the littoral, the spring, the neap, the once upon a time beneath the deepest deep sown but never reaped…….

not yet,
maybe never,
or maybe when the time is right,
is time ever right…..?……..
stumbled on by accident….. maybe…… someday maybe….
but not yet,
maybe never…….

© robert greig 2017


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