I was doing the recycling when despair set in.
I climbed back into bed and lay beneath my duvet.
Now a coming together of disparate parts,
unharvested organs and my fractured heart
is auguring in an incoming tide,
I no longer feel quite so beside myself
inside, I’m beginning to feel more whole
the instinct to venture out is becoming more bold.
I’m making tea for the tillerman to take me out to sea
and hoping to escape the blues and find myself free.
But I’m struggling on the mudflats with the wading birds
surrounded by lugworms and Southern Water’s turds.