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Blue Marble Review

Literary Journal for Young Writers

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Riverside

By Peter Beattie

 

Humming at the riverside, city across the waves hanging low

Lights stabbing across the thrashing water to slip shadows under our feet

Where they, teacher-eyed, observe our dancing and stalk us

 

We cause sand to leap out the way, feet stomping manic

To the intense chorus of acutely heated wind down wine bottles

 

Smoke couldn’t keep up with us all night and so wanders home

Some bearing a distinct scent that sends trees tutting

Ash diving to the sand where it rests, unfolding into nothing

 

Bodies sprawl on rocks and sand and blankets, floating

Burning so vital, those webs of pounding flesh and sounding veins

Throbbing, afraid of skin that might scorch them, but adventurous

 

Those ungifted with a human crutch wobble on,

Sticking to the corners in defensive huddles, cackling

Arms building platonic shields to avoid repeated scars

 

Moon attacks with full frontal nudity, no clouds-modesty is dull

As stars hang back at the dancefloor’s edge, drinks sipped tenderly

 

Humming at the riverside, we beat a clunky tune into the ugly hours

We are a nuisance, attacking the sea as it tosses and turns, trying to sleep

But summer brims over and we are sipping from the cup

Which floods so sticky onto our vibrant skin

 

 

Peter Beattie also goes by Moth, a product of their gender identity crisis. Crises, usually self-caused, are a recurring theme in their life and work, of which this is the first published example.

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Winter Poems 2017

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