It
is pool,
is pull,
is still
sky blue.
Cool as a doll,
I’m limbs,
I’m lungs,
I’m lightly mad,
must dance.
Moonsuck moves it.
Swirling, sluicing, slurping,
slapping, fizzing, it headbutts my hips,
sprays a million glinting bits of never,
halts,
ebbs,
is silent as glass.
Tiptoe-bare,
I’m towelled,
curled,
lightly sad,
must sleep.
(First published in Jukebox (Out of the Asylum Writers, Fremantle, 2013))