Knoydart September 2014


Smooth the barbs of night
with forsaken stars;
snag the waning sea
its mackerel feather bars.

Marry bladderwrack
with a crow-wing tide;
nothing on the water
just the wounded side.

Near the bilberry stone
ravens playing tag;
face the tin-plate sea
with the wind’s lost brag.

Open up the wound,
now the door gusts wide;
sigh the hooded sea,
place your hand inside.

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