Somewhere out there the sea
sighs and turns in its sleep
hidden in a thick white fullness
that is an emptiness
I cannot tear apart
to see behind or peer ahead.
My narrow lens
grasses bend like fishing rods
baited with water
burn with blue flames
an empty bird’s egg, eyelid thin
holds a lake of milk
while a snail weaves its eye-stalks
like groping fingers in the dark.
from ‘Salt’ published by IDP 2013