Liminality

• Finlay Smith, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2022

Ocean turbid, sprawling under southern storm; dozing on my bed.
Floral quilt runs over-wave in intoxicating nostalgia.
But dusk wilts in the vase -
Your fragrance.
And dawn blooms on the doorstep -
Tomorrow’s problem.
Your ribs make soft ripples across the sea, like the rivulets of waning sun trickling through the blinds,
And streaking your face under my caress.
Calloused fingers weave petals through your hair, scattered with faux disregard along your belly.
One for freckle, one for scar,
Yet we’ll say we slept in the garden bed.
Instead of here in the half-light, eyelids drooping and tea on the boil
For some ephemeral eternity.