Ocean floor

when my daughter was three

she asked me

what was at the bottom of the sea

was it mermaids rocks and seaweed?

staring up at me

i didn’t tell her the story written in the morning paper

i said

wheni was her age- yes

there used to be mermaids there

gripping rocks

wishing for legs

spying on seamen on boats singing shanties

to show them the way to the safety of shores

these mermaids would splash with the turning of oars

dreaming of human kisses turning fish-tales to feet

playing games till night-time calls from below

when they’d go

swin away through the reefs

soi thought

i thought the ocean floor was a place for mermaids and sand

and Caribbean singing crabs called Sebastian

his candlesticks glowing

in ancient sea cities

through subterranean pillars

remains of palaces and titanic like leftovers on dinner plates

and parties with sea kings and octopus violinists

cynics argue- there’s no space anymore- up here

now in makeshift boats

across the seas

a thousand bodies row in false beliefs

back and forth through ocean seas

from torture death or war they flee

balanced between a boarded sea and maybe

reaching safety

we say

go back- there is no space on our land

as they row on with hopeful hands

we wait

our seashores now barricaded by wires

lighthouses replaced by blue siren fires

mermaids dashed off rocks

where border

control guards now sit and watched

and wait

shininh floodlights of teeth into villainous waves

they wait

drowned in the soft glows of gloating

guns rested between fingers

ears pricked for shivers

they wait for those boats

floating where black night skies above the ocean burns with cold

and frozen winds pierce fleeing souls

and never ending waves wake screaming babies

and frightened people huddle

dreams of little more than reaching safety

we say

go back- there is no space on our land

dunkirk now far from our minds

where newspaper stories

bragged of boats saving scared fleeing flesh

the worn paddles blessed

by man’s compassion

our headlines now read

go back

as hands row for weeks forward and back

we say go back

as fingertips shiver and crack

we say go back

as faces think back to the homes they had

we say go back

as whispering voices break with tears

eyes full of streaming freeze with fears

and just when

their boats are getting near

we say

go back- there is no space for you here

here

in a land where sheep graze gracefully on never- ending rolling hills

and vodka spills from disco dancing hands

where grandmas do lunch over sandwiches

three tiered trays toppled by victoria sponges and rock cakes

and scones  and jam and clotted cream

with silver spoons stirring our sugary teas

we say

go back

i watched titanic five times on the big screen

tearsstreming down my cheeks as i heard the oarsman shriek

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