Looking
at a Print of Scarborough
This
picture reminds me of the smell
of
seaweed in cliff gardens at low tide,
when
sunshine felt like a warm new suit all over,
and
the open-top bus ride tousled our hair.
On
the beach, eating ice creams,
we
stared deep into donkeys’ eyes
to
see their souls, sure they sensed ours
in
the quiet tide beneath everything.
Lying
on our stomachs, watching the sea,
I
kept you safe like the castle keeps safe
its
bay with rocky shoulder and encircling arm.
I
touch the glass that separates the print from me.
There’s
a slim airspace between today and yesterday.
I
know I can always reach you there.
Stuart Larner
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