Susan Taylor
Aqua
On this our anniversary,
eleven years hurl us -
two straight masts
that heave at fever pitch
over deep ocean rocks -
the pressures working
sand to crystal,
crystal back to sand.
A constant witness flutters
from two straight flagpoles,
astounded at the high tide’s
magic up. Pressures working -
quiet first child, second noisier
make a mobile for us;
a gift to join
our spirits back to air.
The sea calls now
desperately at the back of your eyes
from inside our imaginings.
I must get up in painting clothes -
re-coat the ceiling like the sea.
I’ll write beneath its aqua
when I finish.
We’ll hang the mobile
from my rippled blue -
a seven sailed ship
to prove that sea is there
Page(s) 90
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