WATERWINGS

glass bottles
frosted by the sea
lined up on the windowsill
little blue one first
thick green one last
grey light sucked itself from the room
waves threw themselves
on the shore
in the distance
slipped away
dustmites on the floor

her little angel-wing lips
stained and shiny
with the blood of blackberries
juice bruising face and hands
washed in the outdoor faucet
metal cold cold temperature
prickling and stinging her skin
like a mute jellyfish
spindly limbs shivering
rushing back towards the house
in a flash and sprint breathless excite
the driftwood castle
with the glass teeth
and cinder heart

the soft sand
sprouted the salt-paled sea grass
and battled the paperlight flowers
which it bore
rough-edged and weather-worn
little bones
little shreds
crucified tongue
left to nothing
but growing wings