Somewhere down in the chroma noise,
my children
in the rock pools just before the point, as the striated light
leads, not lags (by a second of arc from here) a fledging gull’s flight; kelp tangles my toes, ( &
my girl has lost her shoes along the strand
as the yachts tack fast, & past the white hotel dip pure Ravilious buoys. Eliot tells her ‘the world is
likely to end right now’, and she says ‘then wave if you love me’,
& he keeps on, climbing barefoot and sandy, past the sign: please keep to path, glass in roped off area,
as the light slants long and thin
across the headland chalk
