No Back to the Ocean


[Recent rhyming poem. Shot taken at one of my favourite beaches: Seven Mile Beach, Gerroa.]

No Back to the Ocean

Sitting in the shade, air round your ankles
playing where there had been shackles.

Rolling in over the ear’s edge, rising &
whorling waves of faint women’s voices.

Is Summer just memory old as sex,
love before the time of choices?

Warm breeze on infant skin’s other,
diaper-free, smell of grass & mother.

Wideness floated around gently
as a warm amniotic sea.

Piercing the soft sky of murmur
were bird calls, insects humming.

Nowness breathed into reverie
like water into fish. It, you, me,

no distance anywhere, so darkness
& terror edged all bliss.

Storms arose from nowhere
that was everywhere. Rage,

desolation could rip-tide carnage
anytime the moon was empty

or you’d stepped on a crack.
You had yet to learn your abra-

cadabra, your very first poems.
Even then, even then: no way back.


~ by Peter Lach-Newinsky on December 15, 2015.

2 Responses to “No Back to the Ocean”

  1. another beauty, peter…

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