down
by
the dingle
shore
where
shingle
and the
flat muds
meet
the rusting
wreck
is
rotting
its skeleton
piercing
an
angered
sky
and
low
upon
the sand
we lie
and
touch
the sky lit
thundering
clouds
beyond
the Mersey march
as
one
by one
and
two by two
the
wild geese
head
for
home
II
down
by
the Hale
light
long
silenced
by
the storm
the
wind lashed
shore
and
stony bench
turn
eyes
from red
to sore
and
clinging
to the marshy edge
that
points out
to the sea
I wonder
O how
I wander home
this night
was
meant
to be
III
opening
the door
the warmth
the noise
the reckless cares
hit us
as a wave
and
sand sore
eyes
and
salt mat
hair
are drowned
in the
glare
of
beer filled
chatter
absorbed
and lost
within
these waves
of sound
and smell
t'was in
this place
one hundred years
or less
ago
that lights
were set
by wreckers
luring ships
to death
and doom
upon
these muddy
shallows
on such a night
O
such
a night
as this
these
peoples
parents
preyed
