Fingernail clippings ping off rock-grey cloud —
Small white crescents flipping through the air –
What birds these are is neither here nor there —
Blasted by monstrous wind and hail out loud –

For ocean hillocks bulge and pile and drown
Parts of heaven – Pause –Then sidle down –

Then grow again – Daubed in dark kelp greens –
To catch stray birds in humps of murd’rous flow –
Unfathomed swipes — To land a mountain’s blow
And finish flight and brace all in-betweens.

My fractured heart, that scattered flock at sea,
Was heavy-drenched and downed in jealousy.

Until I’d changed my thoughts, things stayed unkind –
My cramped obsession with equality –
Of mine to other’s success – knocked and threw me,
When all I needed was deep, nested, in mind.

Author: Damian Robin

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