The Fatal Shore

The title is not my own, I borrowed it from a book by Robert Hughes. But I think it works well with what this is about, an experiment in poetry.

We saw the beach down below us, sweeping out towards the north

The grey waves breaking against the rocks

I carry a small plastic bag, a small styrofoam box within contains our lunch

We walk down to the beach; She stays on the path into the forests

I go right and down to the beach


We did not mean to split apart

The waves came closer and I realized I had to get back up to the wood

They became stronger and the water unsteadied my feet

The pebbles give away


I fight

My broken hand tries to keep hold of our lunch

Knocked down to my knees I can feel the stones abandon me

The styrofoam box floats away

I cry out for help and reach out with my right

I see Her turn towards me

Then the waves pulls me down and I hear a cry


I don’t know if it is any good. The inspiration behind it is a nightmare I had the other night. I always lived very close to the sea and even though I know how to swim I have always disliked being in saltwater. The fact that the sea I live near has always been the Puget Sound which is both cold and not particularly clean did not help. It is a primitive fear I suppose and this nightmare was not fun. Luckily it was short and I had something to distract me immediately upon waking. Anyway I thought it would be fun to experiment.



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