Crab Fishing

Tiny monster, blanketed in the earth’s skin;
the spirit of Achilles lives in you.
You are a funny thing to fear.

I remember the sun soaked breezes of Brownsea
where little fires jumped from branch to branch.
Our assaults were always fruitful there.

Children have no mercy. We hunted eagerly,
pulling you from the deep, calculated and slow.
How we squealed at your shadows in the water.

Once captured, we gazed beadily at you
scrabbling at the plastic walls.
Soon we’d hold an army in our bucket.

When we tired of our labour,
desiring sandwiches and dry clothes,
we turned from soldiers to emperors.

Turning the bucket onto the deck,
like toying gods we watched you race away,
fleeing back to the salt from whence you came.

I wish I could have seen you floating down,
parachuting into the dark as living meteors.
When I see you now, I smile at the memory of those days.

How cruel we were then in our love;
and still I yearn to fish again,
reaching down into the sandy unknown.

…

Rachel Bruce is a poet based in London. Her work has appeared in The Telegraph, Eye Flash Poetry, The Daily Drunk, Hencroft Hub, and Atrium among others. Find her on Twitter @still_emo.

Beach Waves

I never know what to do with my hair.
It falls flat over my head like a veil,
mourning my lack of ability.
I try ponytails, and feel embarrassed
for not running free over the sand.
I venture into beach waves,
and I come away with burnt fingers.

It’s when she first curls her fringe
that I notice a tension at the top of my chest.
Her face is paler than before,
and her eyes shine so blue I think I’m drunk
in that teenage way, on WKD
or salt water.

I start to wonder how long I have looked at the curves of her body
rather than the clothes decorating them.
She smiles wickedly,
like she knows when I lost my virginity
or how I’m going to die.

Dirty blond and shining.
The ends of her hair tickle my imagination
until one day, bored and panting hard,
I take the scissors to my own.

…

Rachel Bruce is a poet from Hitchin, UK. Her work has appeared in The Telegraph, Second Chance Lit, Eye Flash Poetry, Eponym Magazine, The Daily Drunk Mag and The Hysteria Collective.