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NAP – poetry compt. entry 2016

August 13, 2016


The dynamism was a crowded beach bustled and bruised together.   Nocturnal on night-time trill, the sand was  all blanched electric.   The sky was an absorbing satin creased behind the clouds and,beach kisses   as most start trunks, his palimpsest skin should have been made on the shingle of the sea.   His poor topaz tongue emerged  from a footnote drawn in the sand.   It was these rich words that made him the carver of stones.    The boy made the azure of the sunset a peach-kissed amaranth and he  caricatured the kiss also.   Defining himself, he was the  fittest survivor in his manifesto of dreams, questioning swerving love because he was just ‘too youth’ to matter.   He thought it strange how two teenagers could ignite desire with a caress.    How the sharing of spittle savoured promise.   So he dreamt on it and philosophised how there was an animalism in it   like a hunting great white shark trolling fish.   He gazed lovingly though    at the ritual.   Transposed on a bed of sighs, he dreamt with blood on his knee-caps.   Blood on his swollen head too.    He dropped off his tea leaf for one last taste of that bastille with those loves he was most partial to: assurance and that wanderlust.       We wrote together in the margins & called it: ‘the tomorrow poem’    because that’s how the stars read.    We geared-up    just to be on the safe side of tomorrow – to make sure he got there in time to read them     (wherever there is).


© Jamie Trower


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