Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Robert Verdon, #358, sunday early

here is
long grass
a licence to hide
and sink without drowning
to ebb and flow
like the tide
the clinker-built sea
clatters on the beach
the surf clutters it
dolphins doze
islands are screwed down imperfectly
haze lifts unhurriedly
diminishing, long grass flanks
the wooden slats bolted under white sand
something else long makes regular holes
daisy bushes flutter, the rocks mutter
no seagulls screech
the sky is a glass oven-hood
torn sandshoes turn swiftly and walk away


  1. Terrific lines: the clinker-built sea/clatters on the beach
    and yet another terrific metaphor for sky

  2. Very fine poem.
    And given the absence of any first person,
    a great ending.
    Great restraint.


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