Glorianna
There is, at the sea, a certain sense
that I am nothing;
that my heavy heart is feathery in comparison:
a tuft, a fluff, a twig that snaps, snaps, snaps -
The sea
Many a twig and many a feather falls my way;
many a feather drifts away upon me;
but I am not culpable
merely incapable of shedding tears
because I am already watery.
Glorianna
There is a sense, under the sky, that it is a beast
that snorts and billows at me, sleeps, and wakes again to eat;
that I'm toothless upon a core that bites and nips
and nibbles at me;
that I'm a speck of thought under a canvas that is vast,
a pulsey thing under the sky-cum-skin that is wan and angry;
and always has been; always shall be;
that I'm thirsty for somatic love, or for the visceral kind that is more worthy -
a dab of cognizance upon an unmindful and abysmal sphere
that burns and spins and rhumbas sans its intellect.
The sky
But I'm just a grain aside a field that is boundless and replete
with emptiness;
and the night crows inside hanker only after me,
particularly for the air inside the mouth I kiss you with.
I'm nought compared to the attritive gap
that abuts next to me -
the vacuum that abrades and grinds
and tussles with me endlessly.
The sea
If I weep, it is for you.
Glorianna
Then weep!
The sky
If I fight, it is for you.
Glorianna
Then fight for me!
North Wales, September 2005