pebbles surround us
smoothed
by centuries of waves
along the shore –
they fetter us
with their unsteadiness
towering in dunes
of polished stone sun-drenched
and sea-wet
beating on our doors
at night
in mountain shapes
they bear down
on our chests
with fossil feathers
frothed within a stolen duvet
cracking skulls
across the flat sea surface
mocking ships that tilt
at silly angles
on uneven reefs
they grind the iron hulls
to silt –
our fragile island
washed up from the histories
of coracles and swords
doubloons
and worn-out harbours
empty of their fleets –
salt-dried against the dawn
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