frutti de mare

by Stephen Kingsnorth

The wreckers search the post storm strand,

both eye and ear, revenue men,

and always lurking, pressgang fear,

but shipwreck yields the common touch.

Both cargo and the hulk bear fruit,

the timber, sailcloth, coal and plate,

and even keel set in its place,

a stable board of food, hoard stores.

This treasure chest from tidal horde

will keep the winter gnaw at bay

while we can spar the lighter beams

as coffin rest, bedraggled mates.

The coinage of foreign mint,

but now rechristened in the waves 

these strangers face a common god;

we’ll not disguise these wights, now shades.

Their blue bleached flesh now beached among

gulls, crows and terns, all skua birds,

a thicket, wings and pecking beaks,

that we must brave to feed our own.

Stephen Kingsnorth, who retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces published by online poetry sites, printed journals, and anthologies. His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/