Some fantastic seaside metaphors in Rachael Clyne's poem today. @rachaelclyne.bsky.social
Unseaworthy My face is a creased skirt, my hands, crabby and stiff my brain, a shell rolled-in-and- out, in-and-out of the tideline. My eyes are grazed by morning’s razor-light. I must have walked ten miles through dunes and rock pools until tangled in drift nets and bottom-trawled to oblivion. Today brings tasks I am not fit for – lists to obey, deadlines to gather.
