Emily Hinshelwood
The Edge
This is where I am
this edge
this cliff of crags and crumpled coast
rocks rammed and hammered by a raging tide
land's ragged hem like a ripped limb
bones exposed and licked by ocean brine.
This is where I am
on this edge
leaning, screaming into the wind
that tugs and whips and sucks
my abdomen
cheering me, urging me
egging me over the edge
off this teetering ledge
into the flight of the cormorant.
I, secure in the beam of the lighthouse beacon
that calls the lie of the land
and warns of Neptune's creatures.
I, replete from a visit to a log-fired village
cwched like a chocolate box in an ingled nook.
I, heady with the delicate scent of fresh gorse
yellow clusters splashed on muddy canvas
charged with romance and steady love.
I, here I am
on the edge
proffering my cheek to the billowing breeze
catching the stinging sleet in my open mouth
blowing kisses out to sea
seduced by a rainbow's perfect arc
and two grey white gulls soaring above me.
I stand at the edge
tearing in two
splitting on scarred fault lines
shattering the botched whole in passionate advance
crazed, amazed
dazed by the lure of the depth of the world
and I teeter on tentative toes
and suppose
just suppose
I decide
to let myself go?
this edge
this cliff of crags and crumpled coast
rocks rammed and hammered by a raging tide
land's ragged hem like a ripped limb
bones exposed and licked by ocean brine.
This is where I am
on this edge
leaning, screaming into the wind
that tugs and whips and sucks
my abdomen
cheering me, urging me
egging me over the edge
off this teetering ledge
into the flight of the cormorant.
I, secure in the beam of the lighthouse beacon
that calls the lie of the land
and warns of Neptune's creatures.
I, replete from a visit to a log-fired village
cwched like a chocolate box in an ingled nook.
I, heady with the delicate scent of fresh gorse
yellow clusters splashed on muddy canvas
charged with romance and steady love.
I, here I am
on the edge
proffering my cheek to the billowing breeze
catching the stinging sleet in my open mouth
blowing kisses out to sea
seduced by a rainbow's perfect arc
and two grey white gulls soaring above me.
I stand at the edge
tearing in two
splitting on scarred fault lines
shattering the botched whole in passionate advance
crazed, amazed
dazed by the lure of the depth of the world
and I teeter on tentative toes
and suppose
just suppose
I decide
to let myself go?
Page(s) 46-47
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