I Sleep in the Sea by Ruby Fatimilehin

Dark blue crinkles
Rolling waves as big as mountains,
Crash and leap
Rustle and roll over,

The sea dances to its own shanty
Snoring up and down
A low groaning jig

The world is flat,
I know, I saw it!

Ships and submarines have fallen off
Lost socks, old underwear and pens
Form a bottomless shipwreck

Washed up on desert islands
With years of clutter and turtle bones,
Sweet wrappers and coconut shells

But the biggest monster of all,
And kraken of biblical proportions
Is not so easily thrown
Off its favourite resting rock

Neither the harsh lights of sunrise,
Or its own salty breath
Can wake it from its slumber

The “Caw, Caw, Caw”
Of its seagull alarm clock
Does little but make it stretch out its arm,
Destroying an armada of homework-paper ships

But, what’s this?
The sea monster’s mother wades in
Through torrents of textbooks
And flings open grimy sails

The sea monster rolls over
Causing planks on pirate ships to creak and groan,
A tsunami of water and duvet
Cascades onto the floor

This great behemoth of the sea
Vaguely converses with its mother
In its native language of guttural grunts

About how it should take the Dogfish for a walk
And did it leave its PE kit left in Davy Jones’s Locker again?

But the monster takes none of this in
And when its mother finally paddles out of the gloomy lair
Buries its face in sea sponges and anemones,

And promptly goes back to sleep