Storm Warning; Breastroke

Storm Warning

A cold grain of sand
shuttles towards me,

grips a lonely follicle
with its sticky bulk.

The bleached beach
glares one sun beam

to the wooden hull,
heats its target like

a blazing black eye.
A raindrop of ocean

jumps from the sky
into a clouded bolt

that visits the earth,
brings its low voice.
 

Breastroke

The saltwater tastes me in its shallow draughts,
pressing the mystery of its body into my pores

that blossom their easy acceptance like lilies,
suck the watery meal with sundrenched thirst.

White refractions litter the army of waves that
crest breathlessly, spew spoonfuls of froth

that cling to the soaked walls of my ribcage,
beg entrance at the padlocked gate of organs.

Submerged in violet baths, anxious fragments
of ancient hours melt into slick soapy puddles,

sleeking floors of hot sand with a grim patina
that coats the trodden path of daily observance.