Monday, March 16, 2009

Liminal State

The other Oyle is prest out
of the dried Cocus, which is called Copra

Deep down
on the lower level,
beneath the sea-green
breakers, we walk on our head.

At night we dream
of parakeets in palms;
brown-bronze women
dance on yellow sand.

Yesterday we piloted
a silver schooner
through the archipelago
and traded Gaugins
for copra.

We serve the sea-spider;
we breathe through gills.

Tomorrow we hide
in a coral niche
and count starfish
with tattooed eyes.


Anonymous said...

I seem to recall reading this before. Have I?
I love the image of counting starfish with tattooed eyes.

Anonymous said...

I like the use of alliteration woven through her hair at times and the image of 'count starfish with tattooed eyes' will be an image that stays with me FOREVER!
Well done, you.