The Camels Head (Combe Martin)

[Keith]

Edit1 (JM)
An old gouged-out tin mine
that cried white at high tide,
washed away summers
on a sharp-stone barefoot beach.

Churned over messages
scratched onto duck stones
where rockfish spun like crocodiles,
gorging on smashed whelk
under the overhang.

Each morning the sun
would shiver in the swimming pool
before the caravan warmed
with coffee and kippers.



Original
A gouged out old tin mine
gave her an eye
that cried white
at high tide.

Washed away summers
churned over messages
scratched onto duck stones
with flakes of sunburnt chalk.

Popped PVC hissed its release
dragged, black and orange
across sharp edged, barefoot beaches
were rockfish spun like crocodiles,
gorging on smashed whelk
under the overhang.

And each morning the sun
would open with the swimming pool
before the caravan warmed
with coffee and kippers