iv. only to part permanently | 2021
They’d stripped me bare // left me for dead // fetal position // dry land // when another white-faced man from London came to look round // liked what he saw // and paid a fair price to call me home.
if only they could see me now // the ones who forged my veins and arteries // the ones who fostered me Beachley, from the Dutch name I bore before // what would they say to that man // what would they say to the world which surrounds?
these waters are the centre of the Earth // if that Earth is office blocks, stocks and whiskey on the rocks served in the bars which line this harbour now // gutted like the fish that used to coddle my body // ready for a homeowner // or holidaymaker // to wash away the everyday monotony // scrubbed into their skin.
I am a vessel of two hearts: one of birthright, one of farce // who will I belong to in these years ahead // and what will I be in the next phase // Will they ever lay me bare // knock me dead // I’m not the one to decide // I’m just the one it happens to // I’m just the one with the nice views // porthole // deck-side // covered in tattoos of “solar panels” // bird shite // portable heaters // the rest-seekers respite.
Where’s it all gone // the things I were before? // Have they drowned in the deepest depths of the harbour // or been washed up, dried up, chucked up on some faraway, distant shore?