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Paul Surman

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The Imagined Coast

I

Seeing the land tonight is like looking
At a watch face, obscure in the dark:

Sightless--you imagine the coast
At the end of a single track road,

Imagine driving between stone walls
To a gaunt, solitary shoreside house,

Unvisited, empty as discarded self.
If you stopped to breathe the air

You might hear a sheep pissing
In a nearby field, the monotonous

Sound of waves on a beach,
Failed music repeated to itself.

The sky unstable, untuned, like
A radio stuck between stations--

Whistles, attacks of static,
Voices that appear then fade away.

II

Past the midnight turning point
(no going back) another car comes

Towards you down the road where
No one goes. Why would it be there?

What will happen when you meet?
No passing place. Will you each stop

At a distance, watch and wait?
Two creatures held apart by mutual fear,

Sensing, appraising and then
Will one of you give way, back up

And let the other of you pass? Or
Will you both stay where you are

To stare each other out? Silence
Of opposing headlights. What next?

Clunk of a distant door? Footsteps?
What will tomorrow be like?

 

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