Fragment

Fragment:

In my memory I slip down the miles of high-hedge-rowed, single-track roads,

closer and closer towards the coast and the craggy edge of the universe edged by lace.

The sea smashes endlessly, relentlessly on rock knifes.

The motion of the fierce waves slashing strands of foam, beating and pulverising the saltwater.

Echoes of grinding and groaning sound off the crags on this distant peninsula,

the lighthouse keeping watch.

The brine working it's guts out,

forever tossing and turning and tearing itself to pieces.

As if a great brawny man is turning a krank handle

working hidden mechanics under the sand and rock, endlessly, tortuously and will never ever stop.

I stand on the edge of the tearing and grinding,

the smashing and ribboning,

imagining myself atomising, deconstructed,

running like sand through an hour glass,

into the sea until all that is left is a tiny fragment of sand.