april 10th

fog

like boiled wool

felt-tight

rolled in as though a bale of hay introduced

and there grew up a wall of concrete grey

cutting brief the promenade

and swallowing whole companion dogs

ahead a pavilion measured in steps

levitates

just

beneath the press

and bears the weight on its rigid knees

quadruped

biped

floating harbour for the gulls at ease

no room left but these

empty yards that

gather in

crew-neck close

audience-early

arrived for a keener view

the beach huts thrust proud their

pink and purple chests

the old guard

fearing less

squat broad

and make limp protest

behind now exists not

and this way turns only one page at a time

today i have hope where you have none

hunkered down in bell-jar space made

strange this hour in this light

i wonder if you have ever touched me

in some other sea

against my yesterday skin

skimmed me briefly

neither knowing we'd be here both

moon towing

to and froing

a room is changed dependent on the door

by which we enter

you met windows of many aspects

i

the walls and hooks for coats to hang

yours the garden song and

mine the rumbling thrum of the rail yard

all terminals arrived at

words like fall-out

ash where there was none

already in the blood

some people we don't mean to lose

they snag on branches and separate in market squares

and then the trains this way and that

scan barcode faces into something grey