Seven years later: I'm back
here again.
Is this the same town that
I cherished before?
Is this the same sand? Is
this the same shore
Where I danced to the
pulse of the waves?
The silver framed photos
are all that I have
To bind me to this quiet
beach
But the pictured sand has
left the land
The grains of me lost to the
sea
Before the hoping doting
groping
Chocking with hurt
Feel like filth
Feel like dirt
Dad calling me ‘sod’ and
carpet burns
And yellow paper fantasies
Clifftop graveyard,
Ruined abbey,
New-sand seashore,
Nothing stays.
Pirate golf course,
Cliff-lift eyesore,
Salt-smell, seagulls,
They remain
The grey sea claims me
Lately, they say
Insides echo,
Hollow, let go,
Touch me, tell me
I could matter;
Break me, fell me,
Idle patter;
Feed me, lead me
Back, back—
It rained so we stayed
inside the car
And swallowed chicken
sandwiches
The windows steaming
Dreaming
I would
Never leave there
Breath in
Leaving—
My Whitby where did you
go?
The waves beat on while I
was home.
Repeated breakers
Shape us
Make us
Longshore drift
Shall dislocate us.
I tried to dance with two
left feet,
But quickly stumbled out
of time.
The waves beat on, the
tide encroached,
My loved ones said it
would be fine.
So Whitby: home of
vampires
And Goths and jet-based jewellery.
All I recall is that I
loved
Those gentle memories
truly.
So love me, Whitby, though
I may
Have known the taste of
failure.
I’ll find my head, then I’ll
return
If you can’t be my
saviour.
The sea is always calmest
in
The space between the
waves.
I’ll never leave that
steamed-up car
The wind won’t bite my
face.
The abbey perfect once
again,
The seagull in mid-flight,
And there I’ll be;
The static sea
Will not know day nor
night
My Whitby and Whitby's me
Together for all time.
Find me beneath the whale
bone arch
A child again: alive.
