Off the Cliffs of Moher by John Saunders

Her smooth shapely body belly flops
on the ceiling of the sea
smashes green into white,
sloshes close to the rocks
where nothing is ever gone when lost,
is always somewhere.
Polystyrene cups will last fifty years,
a plastic bottle ten times longer,
Tin cans? Who knows?
As we turn they slip from my watery hands
into the gripping deep;
car, house, office keys,
important and replaceable,
unlike the plastic fob with the photo
of you wearing pearly satin,
now hung on the gravelly sea bed,
a lonesome maritime picture gallery,
your beauty on display to every passing fish
for the next five hundred years.

From: http://thegalwayreview.com/2012/11/02/four-poems-by-john-saunders/

Date: 2012

By: John Saunders (1956- )

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