Metamorphosis
by and published in Edition Three of Pomegranate
But,
only moments before, whilst paddling,
in her panic at trying to avoid the speedboat all morning,
she remembered about the jellyfish-warning
twenty seconds too late.
That blob in the water was not a baby
to be saved, but a stinging membrane
and so your fingers fell off from the pain.
She bellowed over to him at the top of the beach
How do you expect me to swim
with different hands to before?
and arrived on the sand, bleeding and crying.
The consolatory sex she had
in the rock pool five minutes walk from her mistake
was climaxed with a popped lilo that blew-off
in the wind. Her heart was not really in it.
He was more than a little disappointed.
And though the gold engulfed them after,
he began to notice a milky white film creep
over her eyes and a floppy
wet feel to her flesh.
He picked out the barbs from under her skin and said,
You seem to have lost your touch.