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
Terrific lines: the clinker-built sea/clatters on the beach
ReplyDeleteand yet another terrific metaphor for sky
Very fine poem.
ReplyDeleteAnd given the absence of any first person,
a great ending.
Great restraint.
thanks Lizz, Rob.
ReplyDelete(Must be the supermoon!)
ReplyDelete