Bent like a banana

On her favourite rock

Skin still slick from the sea

Bulging like some old school cook

In an over-stuffed apron

But soon the surf will return like a cast spell

And the fat old girl is an athlete again

The reeds and the wracks wave her by, and she

Sometimes a shadow

Sometimes silvered with the spherical light

Becames a sharp toothed, brown eyed assassin