for a lost poet and a rich man's dinner
Knotbrook Taylor
on certain nights when the planets align
the tide recedes further than before
and cliffs reform themselves
into prohibited shapes
sand banks develop curves
where once were ribs
each bleached boulder a country
every pebble marks time differently
with the grumbles and clicks
of an unfixed orchestra
its a very old form of anarchy
mass disobedience of an ancient rule
*
day; dog; man; dog; silhouettes by the edge
wet foot; dry foot; nearer; further away
I swear I saw him standing; dogged and sundial still
an ephemeral shadow; longer; shorter; gone
*
in the sea off driftwood corner lies the salmon trap
funnelling shadows, the bullets in the surf
they follow their noses to the river's mouth
only to be fouled in the net
go back!
swim further out; disobey the law
don't do what you did before!
there's a priest waiting; there's a white box waiting
to take your Pachelbel, Sea Bell, Dogger Bank, Minch
*
I was reading George Mackay Brown
the wreck of the archangel
after island of children I glanced seaward
there beyond the shallows and the treachery of the trap
brief and shining, a dark emergence
curving once, pulling a fin, up, over, down
for a long time I stared at the water
confirmation eluded me but I believed
it was him!
journeying with the same delight
who will carry your harp, george,
now you are a dolphin?
Published in Poetry Scotland,
2006
(Diehard Publishers)
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