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Ian Caws

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Dolphins

  I squeeze through the space between afternoon
And night. A November sun is melting
  On the peninsula and gulls wade in
Red pools. On the other side of something,

  I can’t even taste my own saliva
Or the sea salt that shone on the dolphins
  This morning. All day I’ve felt them hover
Above every conversation. Once

  Or twice I mentioned them but mostly it
Was others, people like the coastguard who
  Saw their low frequency lines showing bright
On the dawn screen. And I had been there. How

  Had I not seen them? I remember boats
Back from night fishing and a log washed up
  But no dolphins. On the coast road, first lights
From houses lit nothing more than the shape

  Of what seemed to be yesterday. And this
May be the last time I stand in the red
  Cold, watching the blackness devour it as
Some firework screams like a demented bird.

  Approaching my front gate, I kick a stone,
Half hidden, shy in moss. When the door goes
  In on the push, I hear our fire gasp, then,
From the kitchen, a coffee pot sniggers.

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