Lovely feature for those missing the sea. Thanks to Paul for including one of mine.
I see a thin line
which might be half sea
the other half, sky
tastes of particles of salt
in puddles of vinegar
Tastes of sugar
Babies in trollies scream
For smooth ice cream.
Sees him at the far end of the strand,
squamous in rubbery weed, his knees bobbing
urchins, his lean trunk leaning, sea-treasure for her.
After it all (they mate, like carapaces, in parentheses)
Dora feels coolness in new places, lifts a reused
razor shell, mother-of-pearly and straight
and signals out to the swell of mouldering green.
Dora is electric, in love, and deep water.
Dora, Dora, Dora, in which dread is.
People people the beach, peering
through splayed hands, appealing:
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