Stuck halfway between the sky and the sea,

I am unsure if the plane circling high

above Mellieha is the speedboat or just

a vapour dream brought on

by not being sure of what is up

and how far down the Devil rides.

 

They touch the fingers of a god

as they find faith in their soul

is not unbroken and yet in the Mellieha sky

I see the speedboat

flowing out the spilled Mediterranean seaweed

which a tractor, ridden with impunity,

collects at certain times of the day

and I would rather be on the speedboat,

the air cold and brutal

but feeling alive, no cigar shaped seat

keeping my arse still and uncomfortable,

on a seaweed shore, cold inviting water,

I feel alive.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016