Thursday, 9 April 2009

In a bottle

A ship in a bottle is a curio, a fun thing
On a mantlepiece high and dry.
Put some sea in a bottle
And I would live there
No cork would stop me,
No land to lock
Flying grey salt crashes wet
On rocks
Wind whistles around gorse, whips up
White dance unorchestrated
While bass lines roll firm through feet from peaks gazing over the bay.
Trap me in a bottle where sea mists up valleys to cloud-etched tor,
as much as in a glass I may bear,
where tears merge with sea air.
But do not lock me free by flat land,
for from my
walled heart's well would burst a note to shatter glass and
send the sea crashing out to flood, to bury what I keen.

2 comments:

Chris said...

love that! rugged, salty, gorsey, windy coast - listening to iona at the same time makes me want to check out the west coast of eire. is it your own?

étrangère said...

Yes, 'twas trundling through my mind / heart driving back from Pwllheli. West coast Ireland, North Wales, Highlands of Scotland - whichever.