Seaside
A poem about an average day by the sea in England.
The shoal is dragged across the beach Nails clawing against the sea The rain dances on the plastic roof It fries the canopy The chill leaves your skin disfigured Tiny boils felling forests of hair Bright red drains to a milky white If wrung, you would drip Stiff but without fight Brittle of constitution If left for too long death would knock Standing in reservoir shoes Patting down pockets for toes Self schadenfreude ice cream Smiley face car windows And the relief Of the gentle low murmur of the train home
