Words by Will Hunt
Content warning: descriptions of drowning
Weeds drown silently
Every day, fl aked by caustic sand,
Rubbing, stinging, screaming
Thrown by great waves
Foaming at the mouth
Onto cemetery mounds:
Shells, atomised by apathy
By waves, worrying naught
For the seaweeds,
Drowning, ripped by hooks,
Drawn again,
And again.
Back out, swayed by swells
Like a puppet master with
Strings that needle the fl esh,
Stitching to the sea
A drowned weed,
A wet dog
Wimping, limping. Lying,
Corpse.
A bloated rag
Doll, played with by polar
Neglect, forgotten by trampling
Feet, on shores who don’t care.
