Claire Mullineaux
Watching Seals
A woman watching seals, watches the sea as though
all she'd ever longed for had risen from the milk-green shallows.
You pass her on the cliff-path, think to yourself how pleasant
to see a woman gazing on the ocean
as though her heart's desire had blossomed on the waters
where the blue and purple cloud-shadows sway like outsize petals.
She smiles at you but doesn't speak or point.
You'll see them soon enough, if you didn't you wouldn't deserve to.
And you look where she's looking, and stare in unbelief
where all you've ever wanted, more than you could imagine,
lifts shining shoulders from sunlit water to sunlight,
darkly shining heads, and flippers to break your heart
(so like to human hands, so sealily non-human).
They dive and vanish and swim far out, but mostly
rest upright in the water as in their own green armchair,
noses raised heavenwards, silent as their watchers.
The sky is vaster than anyone could imagine
and flowers with light and the silver veils of rainstorms.
Women watching seals watch the sea as though
all they'd ever longed for had risen from the milk-green shallows.
You'll pass us on the cliff-path but we won't speak or point.
You'll see them soon enough, if you don't you won't deserve to.
all she'd ever longed for had risen from the milk-green shallows.
You pass her on the cliff-path, think to yourself how pleasant
to see a woman gazing on the ocean
as though her heart's desire had blossomed on the waters
where the blue and purple cloud-shadows sway like outsize petals.
She smiles at you but doesn't speak or point.
You'll see them soon enough, if you didn't you wouldn't deserve to.
And you look where she's looking, and stare in unbelief
where all you've ever wanted, more than you could imagine,
lifts shining shoulders from sunlit water to sunlight,
darkly shining heads, and flippers to break your heart
(so like to human hands, so sealily non-human).
They dive and vanish and swim far out, but mostly
rest upright in the water as in their own green armchair,
noses raised heavenwards, silent as their watchers.
The sky is vaster than anyone could imagine
and flowers with light and the silver veils of rainstorms.
Women watching seals watch the sea as though
all they'd ever longed for had risen from the milk-green shallows.
You'll pass us on the cliff-path but we won't speak or point.
You'll see them soon enough, if you don't you won't deserve to.
Clair Mullineaux grew up in Manchester and lives in Sheffield. She trained as a painter/printmaker but has become increasingly absorbed in the reading and writing of poetry.
Page(s) 109
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