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I feel it, first as a stir,turning deep in the murky water.Surfaces up for air, a twitchon the lake in my head.A flip, and it disappears.
We watch them, hypnotized.Pale and mysterious,They rise and fall. Joe says“They look like ghosts.”
The jellyfishdances through the waterwaving its frilly underwear.
We found one on the beach.
It had become a polythene bagfull of water.
In the deep green,
in the heat of the gloom,
a leyak creeps across its selves:
The seagulls think we live at the seaside:the tower blocks are their cliffs;they swoop for fish in the gutterbut are happy that it's last night's fried rice.