Steep Holm basks in a midday haze,
a putty coloured turtle
treading water off Brean Down,
its land eases from the water
like a scarab, an unpolished olive dome.
Fifty years have passed, unchanged
save for the Down’s umbilical
thread of metal homes, which
from my vantage, necklace it to the shore.
save for the Down’s umbilical
thread of metal homes, which
from my vantage, necklace it to the shore.
The ebbing tide irons the final creases
from the sands with one last rinse
as geriatric donkeys
begin their plod to station.
from the sands with one last rinse
as geriatric donkeys
begin their plod to station.
In the Grand Atlantic’s foyer
the pianoforte needs a dust
patinas dulled by the creep of time
nobility ages
from tiaras to trainers
the pianoforte needs a dust
patinas dulled by the creep of time
nobility ages
from tiaras to trainers
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