MARINE

Herded down to the beach at ten

on a winter's morning

in thin white gym shorts as if our volition

came from his barking.

He claimed to have been a marine

and we were terrified,

with anaesthetised flesh

on the oily beach

strewn with bladder wrack

like something coughed up foul and green

and a pill box

full of trash and graffiti;

concrete obstacles from the war

left un-dismantled

and out there, cargo ships

would glide over the cold grey sea

bound for warmer shores.

 

Dream Catcher. Summer 2021. Editor Hannah Stone.