Poem by Tanya Fenkell

I never believed in it, 
the thunderbolt shock, 
that sudden first glance 
too instant, magical, 
a whimsical trick of the mind.

(Hold my butterflies 
while I breathe.) 

Instead: 
ink penetrating paper, blood saturating 
fabric, a slow wet creep, 
waves against sand, a heart’s erosion, 
colours transformed, the sea rises so suddenly, 
all is liquid, and permanent, 
unrepeatable. 

Not a quick blow to the head, 
but chronic, 
pathological.