Poem
Neil Rollinson
The Bed
The Bed
The Bed
I opened my mouth to breathe,like I do in dreams,
and the water flowed into me.
I sank like a stone.
At first I thought it was pain
but it was just
the beginning of bliss.
I could feel the buds in my throat
palpitate: the atavistic gills.
I saw the sand eel and tuna,
the plankton lifting in veils.
I breathed so deep I could taste
the salt and seaweed.
And I saw as I fell, the dark
hull of the ship above me,
its cold shadow. Things glittered
in the gloom like stars in the sky.
I saw dolphins, blue and green.
I was laid in the sand and the fish
came in thousands to pick me clean.
I loved the nights there,
the ultramarine, the moonlight,
the ghostly glow of the jelly fish
shifting like cloud above me.
© 2010, Neil Rollinson
From: Poetry Review Vol 100:1 - Our Disappearing World
Publisher: Poetry Review, London
From: Poetry Review Vol 100:1 - Our Disappearing World
Publisher: Poetry Review, London
Neil Rollinson
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1960)
Neil Rollinson was born in 1960 in Yorkshire. He studied at Newcastle University and then moved to London. Rollinson has published three collections of poetry: A Spillage of Mercury (1996), Spanish Fly (2001) and Demolition (2007), all published by Jonathan Cape, and winning Poetry Book Society recommendations.
Poems
Poems of Neil Rollinson
Close
The Bed
I opened my mouth to breathe,like I do in dreams,
and the water flowed into me.
I sank like a stone.
At first I thought it was pain
but it was just
the beginning of bliss.
I could feel the buds in my throat
palpitate: the atavistic gills.
I saw the sand eel and tuna,
the plankton lifting in veils.
I breathed so deep I could taste
the salt and seaweed.
And I saw as I fell, the dark
hull of the ship above me,
its cold shadow. Things glittered
in the gloom like stars in the sky.
I saw dolphins, blue and green.
I was laid in the sand and the fish
came in thousands to pick me clean.
I loved the nights there,
the ultramarine, the moonlight,
the ghostly glow of the jelly fish
shifting like cloud above me.
From: Poetry Review Vol 100:1 - Our Disappearing World
The Bed
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