By the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea,
Dum-di-dum, dum-di-dum, oh how happy we’ll be!
~ Some Like It Hot
Almost a dream: deck chairs turned to the West,
setting sun laid out, flat, wide, and golden,
ripples trifling with accommodating sand.
That craft out there is ours to charter,
sails bellied out with the kind wind
of a life well-lived, and at journey’s end
the fragrant islands of the heart’s desire.
The moon’s liquid silver sliver
brings other news, intimations
of the bloody rip-tide in the flesh, pretending
it’s a pulse, phosphorescent breakers
plundering castles on the shore.
Deck chairs re-arranged, the band playing,
rational Titanics dressed for the cold,
cruising for a bruising,
no lifeboats at any price.
Waters gather in the mossy seeps
on top of hills, or spring out clear, leaping
from the heights to join and join,
merging in that tidal flood, 7 billion
heartbeats hoping for the best.
– Paul Duxbury 24/6/13