A SONNET : poetry compt. entry 2016
All summer we careened all over the island in clapped-out cars
down dusty caminos. Caught saffron sunsets at perilous addresses
Turn left at the gold boulder, follow the road til the hairpin corner
We’re the big villa over the cliffs – you’ll hear the drum n bass.
Curated chimeric outfits, violent lipstick, draped ourselves in scowls
swoons and cigarettes. Screamed todo verano, hierbas con hielo, Ibiza
Eivissa, I’ll be there, No hay de que! Jumped from the rocks into the
blue. Cocooned now in the nest of my only jersey, I grip the wheel, watch
wipers lance mucous rain. Reverse, First, Indicate, Away. Skirt
the gluey swap, skim the muslin-fogged coast, stall at the bay
where we skinny-dipped in the light of a cocktail tray moon. Some say
it could snow. My Fiat groans with neglect, scowls at winter beaches
below: a mess of Medusas, Men O War: the ocean’s ghosts
Keep driving, keep breathing, this was never your home.
© Annabel Wilson