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