Treasure Island

Sandy Player


Glass Ball


It feels as though I am a small, Twite-like bird
Caught inside a smooth glass ball spinning
Towards the foamy lip loom of the sea;
I am going to die and I can do nothing about it. The cliff face
Behind me points its stygian shadows
At me and laughs; It is the swarm of gannets,
They flap their wings like clapping hands.

I cannot cope with mortality; it is the fear,
Fear of losing all that which was never actually mine.
A bone-basket full of other picker's berries.

Submitted: Tuesday, April 09, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, October 09, 2013

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  • Aria Siren (4/11/2013 1:00:00 PM)

    I can't even pinpoint a part of this poem that I connected with the most because the entire thing is genius. I've never read another poet whose work is like yours. It's so good. It's better than looking at the world upside down, its like looking at the world through another creatures eyes. Amazing! (Report) Reply

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