The Maker The Charles Causley Literary Blog
Young Person’s Competition: The Purple Beach by Mia Atkinson
a violet sky like a blanket, and ground amethyst where I lay only to feel the water like soap,
as it cleanses my throat.
but alas, roses float on the pulses and movements of the flatline salt in my eyes as it
wipes the dust and
my ears play victim
to groans, growls, shouts in a ravine off the cliff, and the geodes scream. my solitude, loud. i am pulled from the shore by hands of coral into dull waters, a sun to a ravine.
a seabed of crystal to rest in the enchantment of
the purple beach.