As the sun glares coldly
at the town, white around the gills
like an ageing dog,
the waves swish down the road.
The long night’s gathered
energy crashes on to the streets
only to stop, beached, steaming.
In the unsparing clarity
of the blue’s sharp light
eyes narrow to slits and the hardness
of brick and stone pierce the advancing tide;
killers come out of their sandy beds,
claws sharpened, shells hardened.
Shivering, I listen and watch,
but head for the trees,
the squirrel’s rustle and the furtive
twitch of the brambles, where I hide
my wounds in the dappled light.