Drummer at the sea

by Elizabeth Trew

He travels across boundaries
drumming his journey
to sit at the foot of Africa
washed by the sea;

facing its waters he sings
to his drum, incoming waves
salting dark skin;
beating the taut drum he roars

to a bloodied memory,
its rhythm potent, outlandish
as his crazed colourful shirt while people
In space suits behind him

stroll by blank as mirrors
absorbing the sound, while the sea
open and vast
washes its foot, listens too.


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