• Victoria Chwa



I lean across an edge of the sea so blue

so pale as white eyes hung along the branches of the Apple tree

whose fruit rugate like old leaves in droughts


I cry I beg for help

can only be found pass the horizon where we cannot see

nor touch nor feel the cool of winter’s wind

or crippling of the ocean’s grasp

or shrivelling of your eyelids dry from a night’s tears


oasis peace prosperity


I wish upon the edge of the sea for good dreams and

for fortunes worth not a cent and

for the slightest truth in every lie and

for the swan to know life as a duckling and

for the ditch-dweller to see light of day and

for promises made to be promises kept

originally published: 23 May 2016

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