The wild Pacific of its heart

An ordinary Saturday in June.
Pin it down with a record pollen count,
a bus stabbing and strawberry shortage.

Let mongrel clouds scamper over parkland
as uncropped council cricket pitches turn
to kissing fields of rye grass and daisies.

By the lido, make it about sunburn,
almost boyfriends and splintering choc ice
so we can picture Hockney’s paradox.

The bigger splash will occur the second
chlorine and freedom molecules ignite
in bodies that – in descending – ascend

as city seraphim – bony and sleek,
pallid and breasted with blue as the pool
unzips the wild Pacific of its heart.

Give them coral walls with beds of seagrass
to dive beside their dreams of manatees
to find the trenches empty of monsters.

Hauling onto the shore, they will walk back
along streets named after forgotten wars
as legends of the city’s unmapped surf.

Published in the Summer issue of London Magazine, 2025