Seaside on Sunday
Sunday: day of Sun, day of Sea.
See, the waves
they drift softly, they drift
churning, biting, chipping away at
sun-warmed skin. resins of amber.
crouch deeper into the spirals of waves: do you see?
Bodies all around, bodies flying, glowing,
traces of sunlight floating bright
It is from this that the waves churn wild.
It is from this that all caves burn deep.
Moss and foam;
feel, the shivering of algae
sewing ribbons for ankles,
shivers to stone, shivers to emeralds.
with closed eyes, with head lulled to the side,
wind sifting, sighing, through hair,
soft murmur of fluttering, dancing
taste of honeyed wine, of salt crystallised lips,
invisible hands, invisible cycles.
Day of Sun, day of Sea
Julia Retkova is a King’s College graduate student: she’s currently working on her dissertation while running a small literary journal called Nymphs. She was born in Ukraine, but grew up in the south of Spain. She loves reading books in the sun and writing when everyone’s fast asleep. Her writing has been previously published in Storgy, Literally Stories, and Masque & Spectacle.