My Swimsuit

I am wearing my swimsuit
but my skin gathers
like fat jelly under my arms
My hair’s dry
in this coastal air
and you can see the fish-skin
scaling my winter legs
I look at them and check
do I have frog-webbed feet?
My back is speckled
with spots from a coral bed
So I run into the sea
and swim,
A brown wave
In the blue waves, waves, waves.   

what Love reminds me of

3. Marble art

Maybe love is marble art, colours bleeding into colours until they belong together. Mixing, melting, meandering like rivulets rushing over salt water plains to join the sea. Made of the rolling laughter of two young girls running down a village street and other obscure sounds that exist only in flashes in our memory.  

You start by pouring thin paint into a dish of water. Colours flow into each other with ease. Watch the paper drink them as you press it gently into the dish. When you’re finished, you will find this is the only way art exists — colours flowing in abstract directions as if they have a mind of their own. Every painting of mountains, plateaus, a woman’s back, has always been this way — just spills of colours blending into each other.   

It reminds me of the first time I looked into a kaleidoscope. A little mirror universe I could hold in my hands. Each time I turned the tube, a new magic trick. It’s as if someone froze a moment from the bottom of my kaleidoscope, and produced it in colour in a darkroom — a piece of marbled paper to wrap a marbled heart with.