Sunset to the West


I was swimming in the Irish Sea
at sunset with my mother,
watched from the stony beach
by my poor, dying father
when I realised
my place is in life is lowly.
I was languishing
in salty expiation as a
laughter of seagulls flew past
wearing shark mask replicas
when I realised
my place in life is lowly.
I turned my body away
from the beach towards
the peach-stone of
a black hole, being slowly
sucked into the sea’s
watercress hives and drowned
and realised my place in life is lowly… and
the setting sun is bought and sold
and silting gold, leaking
out in all directions
like MC squared =

John Tucker

If you have any thoughts about this poem, John Tucker  would like to hear them.