Category: Uncategorized

Kincardine. Kelpies. Half buried traffic cones puncture the pleated river mud. Waterlogged rotting wharves where cargo once sailed downstream. The boatyard finds a french man in a caravan brought here by work and love, he says. A lone lorry driver cooks a meal on a camping stove in his wagon. A lapwing’s cry pierces the dumb silver horses.

Opening bars of percussive rain on reed, a bellowing bruise of an indigo sky. Bell pulling ropes of the bullrush ring a change of key, leaves the whispers of willows to lament the fading song now that the swifts are gone. Sounds of late summer on the marsh.

The end of the pier. Caught between tides, held breath of slack water. Rib cage carcasses of skeleton boats, neither rising or falling, but sinking like everything else here. Ancient oyster shells scatter the shore, the ears of old men listening for the pull of the moon.