Time Stopped In Curacao


Time stopped in Curaçao
under a blazing sky,
sea smooth as polythene
chilled dangling feet
where steel nets kept sharks out
and swimmers in,

somewhere between boyhood
and the pain of growing up
protection already peeling
and the feeling of despair.

The long swim to the platform
almost too far,
too tired to raise the eyes
the future hard to see.

The old ship at the dockside
trembling in the heat
is due to leave at 4 o’clock.
He checks his watch.
The glass face on his wrist
is dripping salty tears,
time frozen tight.

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