Two passports are bouncing off the sea bed,

touching each other.
In silent tango with lifted arms
the two are whirling, then stalling.
Border stamps fade in salty water,
pages saturated with hope and grief
forever opening and closing.

Meanwhile, 5 kilometres away
a woman is feeling her side pocket
looking at a man from the Sea Rescue.
He phones his wife:
“stuffed cabbage leaves gone cold”
but never mind.

Seagulls, wooden puppets
on invisible strings
circle the coast counting inflated arm bands.

Still, down below, bunches of sea weed
are resurrected.
Like spoilt teenagers,
their tentacles shimmer,
even in time of death they seek entertainment.

The storm is gone and Sun
casts a life line to the Sea…
but it’s too late.


2 thoughts on “Dancing passports

    1. Hi Daniel…yes, the sea weed and teenagers bit came to my mind just before publishing – you know that moment when you’re doing your last reading before pressing that button. I guess I wanted to make a contrast between the tragedy of people dying in the attempt to cross borders and their passports just happily carrying on underwater….I guess the sea weed was just taking that point a bit further, for example when emergency services deal with a serious issue of multiple deaths, than you’d expect everything to stop and pay respect..but maybe not ‘spoilt teenagers’. I am thinking now,.does the sea weed ever stay still? I have no experience of underwater life


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