Monday, 14 November 2011

Teak by Jowl









Lambasted by father and tide,
poised in silt.
Those old, teak, timber groynes
of worn-down molars.
Dipped in turpentine.
For they have braced
the chronological grind
of silicates,
where time scarred in narcoleptic cycles.
And, rugged jaw line gaped
a perpendicular smile
at the shore.


Slow, muscular waves, shine to a lick;
an oblique tongue
in algorithmic drift,
as a lolling porpoise buoys,
oil-slicked.
And brilliant sun shone through
The Doldrums. It
Magnified the underbelly.
Those gated tentacles of octopi
lapping over pearly whites;
a metaphoric pathway to
the ocean floor.

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