drained
all my good points
leached by the acid rain of time
leaving a grovel of gravel
plaster of paris they were
fairground kitsch
i wonder how they lasted so long
tide’s out
the mud purrps and hisses
cracks
step not there my boy
step not
tide’s out
there are shards of glass
under the mud
silt off the river of time
below the wooden quay
where the worms are fingered
for blood’s regret
tide’s out
hollowed out
down to your toes
all hollows
the cinders are cold
the bed warmer is cold
a story told of disbelief
has more false channels
than the nile delta
tide’s turning
time’s been wasted
it’s too late
you are all you have left
of what you never were
stand
let the tide take you
it is time
it is time
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