Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

He waits by the harbour wall, surely
she will come again? Tells himself old
stories, keeping calm, surely... surely?

1
Mer Wife: Child suckling moon-
                milk pulls my curdy
                breast, veined as
                blue cheese.

           Baby of clay, look to the sea,
           listen! My other child's calling me.

                Bed-wrecked husband slumbers, casts
                red nets wide. Fair-
                Isle, Dogger, German Bight. Stars 
                swell, terns rasp 'krik, baaack, krik,
                baaack.' Waves, pale
                prayers, fill my land-
                child's mouth.

Surely she will come?

2
Little Mermaid: Old Martha's rheumy rosary 'ave, ave, ave'
              bothers dying dark,
            'ave' drowns other cries 'today, today',
            body bubbles, barque
            ploughs ahead. Man's largess
            means lamp reflections dance on purple water,
            dissolving foam made from a mer-princess,
            fragments and atoms of Poseidon's daughter.
            Circling decks above
            sea-mews yelp warning,
            herring-gulls bark 'love',
            she's erased, come morning.

Will she, will she?

3
Sea Widow: A whale
            beached
            inside. She clutches
            umbrella
            handle, feeling 
            his knotted
            finger-bone.

Rain beats her
            face cuttle-
            fish brittle.

            Dogger, Fair-
            Isle, German 
            Bight

            Briny lashes, silver-
            scaled tears, a fine
            catch. Memories
            scuttle into crab-
            pots.

            Dreams, heaving
            claws. Each morning, cotton
            sheets, torn
            sails.

4
            Waves, pale prayers, fill 
             his mouth. He waits by 
             the harbour wall. Herring-
             gulls bark `love'. Memories
             scuttle 'surely, surely
                she
                    will come
                                     again?'