The lantern’s torn; warm light
spread to yellow parchment
from the paper in her palm.
What was a girlish hand
claws at the wrinkled sea
which draws us on to separate
from our familiar body
as the party beckons,
even as its slow procession
pokes among the marram grass.
She points to the horizon,
dragons on her sleeve collapse
in faded colour. Brushes
in sweet apricot, widening
wash out a summer bloom of peach.
Night’s ocean towers on the west,
stoops down to beach and forest.
This is a reprint of work originally published in Pilgrim Station.
Dominic James lives in South West England near the source of the Thames and he attends poetry meetings along the river valley’s M4 corridor. Widely published, his collection, Pilgrim Station, was brought out by SPM Publications in 2016. He is currently reading up Stuart Buck and Frank O’Hara. His blog trots doggedly on at https://djamespoetic.blogspot.co.uk.
Eunoia Review 