ANOTHER PLACE REVISITED AT LOW WATER
‘It is no hero, no ideal, just the industrially reproduced body of a middle-aged man trying to remain standing and trying to breathe.’ Anthony Gormley
They are still standing and their slow carapace
of barnacles breathes. Small pools of eaten
razor clams and star fish lie at their feet – fry
dart amongst seaweed fronds and the dead.
An off shore breeze brings the calls of distant
sea birds close. The RNLI flag stiffens
and plastic kites, on the slight headland, swoop –
but the cumulus clouds and the con trails,
across the Atlantic, are almost still.
Wind turbines proliferate on Burbo Bank
and, beyond, along the North Wales coast.
Over the horizon, the world awaits
high tide. Meanwhile, on tricky sands, we move
with care among these icons of cast-iron
steadfastness and promise.
Ashen
July 28, 2017I haven’t experienced Gormley’s casts, but your poem gives me an impression of the spectacular impact they must have on that shore, looking out towards the horizon.
Clive Watkins
August 2, 2017I’ve never managed to see these figures, despite two attempts (bad weather, illness), so your poem intrigues. I particularly liked the ending: “Over the horizon, the world awaits / high tide. Meanwhile, on tricky sands, we move / with care among these icons of cast-iron /steadfastness and promise”.