Forgotten Boundaries
Today, midday
Before the Atlantic shroud
Storm to the west descends
I reach the horizon of low
water
And a sea-lost river’s bend
Where the periwinkle-plum
For picking lay attached
The gatherer with the
yellow-bag
And barnacled waders
Not seen now
One even two years hence
Like the Albatross
Far away
Shell-shocked perhaps
Retreating from the
flood-tide
Across the old oyster beds
Seedless now
Diurnal memories and rotting
kelp
And a slimed wall tumbles
Into a past and a future
Which
is forgotten.
