Stephen Robertson

Slanting Lines


Tiny hardness on tiny softness.

Softness crawls over sand and rock

in filtered blue light,

carrying hardness with it.

Sometimes softness shelters inside hardness.

Softness grows, hardness grows too,

spirals round itself, trumpet-like.

Can this go on forever?

Softness grows still, fades away.

Empty spiral hardness rests

on the sea-bed.  Forever?

Another, rougher softness,

but with sharp claws and barbs,

fastens itself inside.

Movement is faster, edgier, rougher.

Rough softness grows

but hardness cannot grow.

Rough softness is too big,

leaves for another home.

Another rough softness.

Can this go on forever?

Empty again, in harsher light.

Another softness, giant but gentle.

Soft digits hold softly, lift softly

place softly against another softness

and soft voice says

I can hear the sea.