Lost At sea

When I was growing up, I lived by the connection between the sea and a the River Humber.

I always thought the river was dirty, with its brown waters suspiciously close to the factories which hugged the banks.

It turns out however that it wasn’t dirty, in a pollution sense anyway, but rather it was just muddy. The Romans documented the Humber as a brown river, and I presume there were no factories there then.

I’ve always been fascinated, but weary of, the coastline there because of that though. And even though the beach now has a blue flag, I’d still fear walking it bare footed because I’d worry too much about standing on something a bit gross.

I wrote this piece as part of a free writing exercise at a workshop I attended recently hosted by the excellent Apples and Snakes.

Lost At Sea


The water will always carry me home,
bloated and forgotten
past the docks
and down the Humber.

Big wheels
litter the beachside,
bulbs twinkling
winking suggestively,
as my body evacuates itself
into the brown Roman waters.

On the boardwalk,
past ice cream stains on the pavement
and teary children,
couples and friends stroll arm in arm
shuffling to the side to avoid the dogs
scurrying around for treats,
and they only narrowly miss the
technicolor rock sticking out
from wooden market stalls.
Faded,
sun bleached and
wind washed,
selling buckets and spades.

As I pass under the pier
I see feet,
varying in size,
and tubs full of pennies
swinging by their side.
Ready to be fed
into the ravenous slots.

Bumper cars crash
as I pass
back into the sunlight,
beyond the Victorian icon.

Soon I’m picking up pace,
floating past
industrial chimneys
and overflow sewage pipes.
Covered now in nappies and broken condoms –
the second making the first a necessity,
I stop.

Tangled in weeds,
unable,
unwilling to free myself
and face the blue unknown,
I rest in the brown
and I seep my gases and
sink.

Asleep in the silt,
I spend my days, watching boats go by.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s