I came across the water,
with my life packaged up,
and all its air sucked out.

My blood flowed backwards,
but my hands were tied
to so many things I had to tear up,
cut off, and leave behind.

Cauterised, and a secularist
from my own mother’s love,
I parted the ocean to walk
in a glowing city that thrived
in the miles beneath.

Are there mermaids between the reeds
or gods at the bottom of the bowl?

Maybe, but my castle was sand,
my armour forged from glass.
All the horses ran wild,
and here I am, with a saddle in my hands.

© Deanna Scutt, 2017

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