The cove is a crumble at the far end
Fragile I say You say I’m wrong
It’s always been this way Everything nibbling
to the core or is it just some shifting
to another space I think of that clearing
on the clifftop The ocean disappearing
eastward Current forever chasing,
rejoining itself
We found a half drunk Lindeman’s Merlot,
a plastic water bottle cut in half for a glass
mini bell jar holding secrets, a memory
Forgotten hair clasp like ribs of a small
marsupial come undone Skeleton home
for a Valentine beetle, if there is such a thing
I think of your ship in a bottle on the Ercol
sideboard The diorama of the Somerset fox
with the funny eye, dusty partridge in its jaw
I love souvenirs Not the Kiss me Quicks
(the sort that pull the world apart) but a rock,
a shell, driftwood in the shape of a seal
They fix things like nothing else I can think of
Published in Orbis, UK. ‘When I Saw Jimi’ Indigo Dreams, 2013
Julie Maclean 