Mevagissey Hulks
The buoyancy gone, scuffed hulls
Leaned awry,
Listed askew,
No longer spry,
But at obscure angles
They loitered awkward,
Abandoned by the sea to lie
In thick, sinuous mud:
The dull red, the bottle green, the scarred black and the scraped blue, all gathered
And chained, roped, secured, tethered;
Like captive beasts trapped in tangles
Of sodden lines and rusted chains;
The weathered bulks strained
In the mire, sulking and stained,
Awaiting the incoming tide, harassed by gulls,
In Mevagissey’s inner harbour, beneath harsh stone walls…
Pete Ray
April 2019
Mevagissey’s inner harbour at low tide, in which vessels lay on mud, like lifeless beasts…
Loved that…
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