it helps to think big
grasp, at the scale of it all
fingers slippery with vernix
flotsam & jetsam
washed up on a rocky shore
there’s some plastic crap in there
black nail varnish,
NW mag, used condoms
broken hearts
buried in black sand, past
milk-skinned shellfish, stippled
breast and belly
my legs are strong
they straddle an ocean
toes planted in soil
head up
where blue turns to black
gravity loses its grip
from here it’s all laid out
one finger
to spin that globe
blur of line, colour, shape
brownwhitebrownwhitebrown
a camouflaged collision