Blackrock Baths, Permanent Things
A collage and a poem.
Permanent Things
The iron rail,
Slapped blue
By the brushing sea,
Carries a bruised hue,
Washed with amber strands of oxide
Where the salt has burrowed through,
And lifted out its ferric core
And flipped its innards overboard.
Waiting,
Like the dead, heaped stone awaits the wind that blows
Smooth its grit crust;
Slow as acid time allows.
Waiting,
Until the sodden mass of this world’s weight is moved
To crush it all in an unknowable instant
Into another permanent thing.
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Thank you so much for reading my work. It means a huge amount to me to have even 1 minute of your time, let alone the attention needed to read and understand these words. If you like what you see tell other people about it - it is the absolute best way to support me and my work and I would appreciate it hugely.
Lovely image, and accompanying piece, should be up in a cafe in Blackrock, David! Really like the zoom in, zoom out of the noticing and muse, and there's a lovely beat and sound to the words.
Gorgeous poem and collage. The line "And flipped its innards overboard" startled me each time I read it.