The Sea Keeper, by Antony Owen

I am not a silent poet

The clocks tick like Fukushima sushi
inside our bodies swirl Isotope bracelets
they penetrate fish armour and yes, we shall fall with oceans.

I know a man who saw the flower of his bones at Christmas Isle
he saw gamma ray purples lash his bones
by Easter he vomited himself into a coma.

You cannot shock people these days in the skim-read tragedies
A genocide slithers off the liquid screen and
We slide into Kylie Jenner’s meltdown over followers.

I keep having this dream of Aylan Kurdi swimming
his arms are getting heavy and the sea is gentle
the slow roll of tide resembles a garland of lilies.

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