sprawl 


they are coming 

they are coming at dawn in white suits

they are coming at dawn and the sea

the sea contracts 

contracts and sprawls

contracts and sprawls, they are coming

with mops and buckets 

with bleach and rakes

in soft shuffle-shoes, and the lion’s manes

the last of the lions unashamed,

the august lions upturned,

placental, they are coming

holding beams of light

cold jet-wash light

in neat lines one two three and the sea

is brawling, throws jellies like punches

their stinging cells ragged

and leaking rust, they are coming 

for these defiant flowers

this loose network of nerves

strewn across the sand, and the light

cuts sharp as bleach

held in gloved hands, they are coming

with plastic held ready, they are here

at the foot of the cliffs in the dawn, and the sand

the scoured and sparkling sand 

will hold no footprints 

Hana Wilde