Dress neck to sole
brogue laced
and swiftstride
alongside the saltsea battered
coastal defences
gulls mimic the ack-ack
attack-attack-attacka
from masts and the past
strobe flows across
the carpet gardens
from the balloon lined
dysfunction rooms
down to the flaked edges of oldtown
crunchleather stones are picked up
and flungtossed sidearm
into the bibberty-bobberty
light bulbs weave waves
along the length breadth
of the repeat repeat to the end
testing for a fault
resting at the fort
old words walk
along old walls
as the ritual of nightpoetry
rears up and up
like the foamsmash
at the pierjump
rushing through
my sand coated
cold iron fingers.
We know
You know
...I can’t make this walk home
without the call of your tide
flooding my heart once more...
