I said to the moon, ‘You know nothing’.



We stand at the shore,
our toes foam with blue ink.
I dive for oysters, my graceless feet
a mermaid’s tail.
I anoint your milky orbs with pearls.

Your eyes are moonstones,
smile, a crescent moon.
You are the lighthouse; I am a moth
attracted to your light.

I stutter constellations;
Cassiopeia trips over my tongue.
A Mirrorball of stars ricochets from
the sunburst of your song.

The sea makes screen prints;
sells them to tourists drinking tears
from champagne flutes.
They cling to glaciers;
carve ice sculptures of love lost.

Our skeletons are xylophones.
We play all the songs —
they are lifelines on our palms.
I do not believe in God,
but we kiss and the universe is ours.

We are stardust,
I write sonnets,
You sing psalms


©2024 Sarah Drury



When the Sea Was Origami

The leaves on the tree shimmer,
catching the breeze, casting
my mind this way and that.

I have words circling my head,
clattering around - flitting
between memories and dreams.

What did I have?
What would I like?

I want it all and none of it.
It is all inside, cloaked in smiles.
The sunshine cannot let

the moon control the tides. 
The sea is calm, tacit; it ripples.
Wavelets are origami ships.

My dreams are beneath 
an ocean heart. 
Blue. 

Serene.



©Sarah Drury 2023