Reef (Poetry)

If I could go back to the night of your conception —
whichever wine-and-passion’s-fever night that was —
I might well decide to have a headache
and miss destiny’s boat with all its ritual sinking —
instead, I’d chose to stay afloat — avoid the grief —
and have a life unholed,
undamaged by your perfect coral reef.

You lured me on that voyage then scuttled me —
left me floundering — a baffled wreck
run aground on rocks of my own making —
mapping out deep underwater shades
like a secret castaway.

I dream I am the warning buoy that rings
to first cruise mothers when the tide runs high
and baby waves roll confidently cool
they hide a jagged edge that razors through.

The sea’s uncaring — fate sucks all things down
and favours none — the strongest love can drown.