Thursday, 1 September 2011

High Tides At Sidmouth

Lying flat out on the pavement,
perhaps dying, she is inevitable
in a town full of old people,
but what should I make of the
whole three-foot cod floundered
high on the promenade’s hard
- a lone seagull chaperoning
rather than on the gorge -
or the tern turned bellyup on the beach
at the tide-mark’s highest edge
- equally as dead as that fish
and its scavenger’s appetite -
because once I am home later in the day
these high tides will be an irrelevance?

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