I see their downed faces
Drowned faces
Swimming in this tranquil sea.

The greatest invention?

Thin walls offer an
Illusion of closeness
Defeated by a certain head-tilt
A touch,
Memory of distance.

Bathers squeeze tender thoughts,
Wells of love and hate,
Each stroke breaking against
Irresistible sand-light.

(16 April 2015)

Pointing out (31 December)

Burning the year waiting for skipped beats,
your ear held ajar against the bass line
holding out for the drummer’s slip, any fumble
added to your catalogue of others’ errors
fuels your compilation, jukebox list of
enduring complaints become your year in review
we expect, accept, all the haunting imperfections
these recollections claw away with tell-tale
rhythm, eye rolls, lukewarm laughter, a snort
of self-inflating contempt, your immolation.