Between The Lines By Carol Coiffait

Between the need for nicotine and a trip upstairs, I forget what it is I wanted to say. Between the wine and coffee I forget who I am and slip inside your skin, your country, breathe mountain air, taste honey black as Saddam's moustache. At the border, no one stops me. I breeze past men with Kalashnikovs and bed down for the night between two rocks. I have never seen such shades of blue, they cushion me soft and voluminous as sky.

Between last orders and disembarkation the publican vanishes. Between one cabin and the next he changes from a man into a woman with a neat perm, medium heeled shoes, straight seams, an unremarkable suit and matching luggage. No problem. Friends wait for her with open arms and Amsterdam swallows them. A small parcel left beside the blind flute player on the edge of the red-light district and the world is her orifice ..

His past, left between here and there, in the wake of a North Sea ferry.

Copyright © Carol Coiffait 2004 Photographs courtsey and Copyright © Andy Hogben

Europe, UK, Poetry - Mermaid By Carol Coiffait

	She swam beyond the realms of possibility Lazed her days away in chilly pride With such utter equanimity, that the North Wind blew her back into hot water. Well, she was her Mother's daughter In a Pacific, non-specific sort of way And she craved the lick of an ice-berg Read more...

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