chalk marks

these chalk hills have settled
in my bones
white as seagull feathers
hard as the past yet
soft as the present moment
I ache to be dissolved
to be worn down like a coward
as the cliffs that face the sea
choose to lose their daily battle

these chalk streams have flowed
in my veins
they have meandered through
forgotten vales forever borne onward
changing course with seasonal whim
the fight being only with oneself
it consuming all of time
crushing the outer shell to powder
blunting the flint of any resolve

these chalk marks have left their scars
on my childhood skin
we collected skulls on the seashore
sucked green slime from the sockets
soft slippery between our toes and teeth
when deeper down and buried
we found chunks of mortar fins
corroded into abstract art
still deadly in our hands

9 thoughts on “chalk marks

  1. I now live on the chalk, and, yes, it’s become part of me. Your opening lines are sticking in my head this morning:
    “these chalk hills have settled
    in my bones
    white as seagull feathers
    hard as the past yet
    soft as the present moment”

    I love this poem!

    Liked by 1 person

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