Boleyn in the storm
The heartbeat of the whale-throat sea
is slow, pushing a world's blood:
blue heavy with history,
into prophecy that licks into waves
like a dragon's tongue
frothy with wind and disbelief.
But I believe –
my red rhythm recognises
something floating furious,
my own pulse dances
in the bigger beast's drum.
And creature, we
scream
the dirt and silver of the storm,
eroded limbs
and salt-eyed strong
breaking the line of water
into a circle –
myself into myself
back up to the surface.
C. LJ 2025
(Inspired by Six Wild Crowns)
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