Charlie Baylis


Grey Ocean

This is the first lie
The second follows

A little girl lifts the moon out of her silk purse
Light jumps down on fields of wild strawberries
Dancing once more to the ringing wind and rain

On the lips of light lies her lemon yellow seed
I see it scull by from my seaside seat. Bathe
Beside her, the cloud colouring the ocean grey

Whose flowers are these? She surfaces above
Her voice shimmers over the waves’ violins
Her eyes bloom gangrenous aches on the fjord

In the city ash and apple-cores erupt into cars
Svelte nylon spikes move as liquid, exhausted,
Lost. Her sleeping limbs spread a navy smile

I see her young in a summer garden. Weeping
Where a sad child ate an orange, her lashes blue
And blue too the evening’s low glow. I loved her

Fully under the full moon and in the apricot tree
But as my mouth slams shut stuck on the 19th lie
She falls from my mind like confetti to the floor.




Charlie Baylis  lives and works in Nottingham. His poetry and short stories have most recently appeared in SAW magazine and The Delinquent. He spends most of his spare time slightly adrift of reality He blogs, sporadically, here:



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