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featured poet, June English


June English photo

 

Alone

Alone at Dungeness. Listening to the sea,
unloading despair in the crash of the waves,
closing her eyes on the warmth of the sun,
soaring with seagulls as that fresh start calls.
 
Unloading despair in the crash of the waves,
soul searching over, ready to flee –
soaring with seagulls as a fresh start calls –
back to their flat to pack a suitcase.
 
Soul searching over, ready to flee,
time to move out, time to leave him,
back to their flat to pack a suitcase.
What if he followed her, what if he found her?
 
Time to move out, time to leave him.
Packing a suitcase, booking a taxi –
what if he followed her, what if he found her?
Frightened of leaving, scared stiff to stay.
 
Packing a suitcase, booking a taxi,
listening out for the honk of a horn,
frightened of leaving , scared stiff to stay –
better to wait and sort matters out?
 
Listening out for the honk of a horn,
chewing things over and over again –
better to wait and sort matters out,
cancel the taxi go back to the beach.
 
Chewing things over and over again –
wanting to leave him, but nowhere to go.
Cancel the taxi go back to the beach,
back to the cold sea that calls to her;
 
wanting to leave him, but nowhere to go.
No one to turn to, no one to tell –
only the cold sea that calls to her;
closing her eyes on the warmth of the sun –
 
no one to turn to. No one to tell.
Alone at Dungeness listening to the sea,
closing her eyes on the warmth of the sun –
drowning her sorrows in lung-loads of brine.
 

June English

published in Acumen, September 2012