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Are the benefactors of your legacy people ... or places?

Submitted:Mar 5, 2012    Reads: 76    Comments: 19    Likes: 6   



Watched by the windmills and Gormley's iron men,

The dutiful moon drags another sheet of memories

Across the golden membrane of sand where Victorian bricks

And jelly fish domes try and fail to make their escape.


They strain in the chrome light and beg the beach

To release them from their sandy jail,

As the head of a new born lamb would stretch its afterbirth

And breath ancient air into its virgin lungs.


My feet follow the last lifespan of flotsam and jetsam

Along the tideline of a thousand legacies.

A generational graveyard is crunched underfoot

And I wonder if these shores will be my benefactor.


The distant rig and cathedral skyline watch further

As the accompanying cliff of dunes and scatty grass

Frame this will and testament.

But my absence goes unnoticed.


My wave is weak and my beach is a marsh

Of mudflats and dead rowing boats.

Another lunar cycle leaves my tide of

Resentful shells and bitter driftwood.

I want to come home …



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