down to portobello
past the sewage outflows
flotsam of condom,
tampon, nappies
curled as nautili
to bathe where the waves
flop slatternly at shore
my soiled skin no offence
to these muddied waters
yet here my hands
are full of moons
stars drift across
my fingers
and my breath
is nebulous on
the mercury
waters
the promenade
is yellow brick
home lights
glow like
an artist's
palette
down to portobello
where my thoughts
grow, promenade
and become as big
as the ocean
