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"antisocial in his shell'

WALKING BAREFOOT, LOST MY CAMERA

Beads and pearls of rancid green
crack and pop.
Dying dreadlocks upon baking black rock,
Entangled.
Slimy ends drip and drape
in warm salt bath.

Curious fingers of bright carpet
shrink from touch -
The shy anemone creeps back out.

Secret workings of worms -
chaotic curls cut in sand, black rock below.
No-where to be found.
The stubborn limpit
Refuses to negotiate, antisocial
in his shell.

Chitons – prehistoric aliens
hold important conversations with rock surfaces
about the space of eternity.

The ocean breathes and shatters
silent surfaces upon the heads of skittish shadows.

From clear, barren deserts
where shafts of light dance in the deep blue,
Lonely shark but a tiny silhouette
on the white sandy slope of a continental shelf.

The moon inhales.
The soul of the ocean arrives,
boiling, angry in confinement,
pushing against solid shapes, wrapping around cliffs,
swirling into tidal pools…

Where grown-up children walk barefoot,
speculating on the shady affairs of secretive crabs.

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© Emma Beattie 2010