Seasick

Foam on the sea’s surface
stretches and contracts
like the network of fat
in the membrane of my stomach.

Writing

There are lightyears
between my brain
and fingertips.


Senryu
 
on the bedroom floor
our belts curl
round one another


Haiku

In the rain
eye-lashes
of a dandelion clock
stick together.

Contact

On the unlit screen
of my smart phone,
I see the paths
my finger has made:
How empty they now seem
without their terrain.

Tristan Moss

If you have any thoughts on any of these poems,  Tristan Moss would be pleased to hear them.