Small boats! small boats!

my power’s in small boats!

for goodness’ sake,

don’t stop the boats,

small boats are all

that I have left,

for hate we trawl

with those small boats,

don’t stop the boats!

the power of hate

must keep our cause

afloat!

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I am

barefoot

on a far tide line

sand rippled

spread

with estuary shells

with oystercatchers

soft where rills run down

or the sea pools

behind a half-sunk stone

or a mooring chain

I am

watching

moored yachts

swinging to the tide turn

above their sunken reflections

angled lines of cirrostratus

echoed below the horizon

in the mirror gloss sea

...

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