Whitebeams and rock cress, speedwell and squill
think they’ve grown here for ever.
Only the stones remember
the webbing of sunlight and water
sharks silhouetted against the sky
fall open like books to share their story
show their collections of teeth and shells,
jostling corals and crinoids pressed like wild flowers.
They’re trying to warn us. The smell of salt is in the air,
coffined creeks and culverts stir
black water rising
this shiftless city lulled on dreams
the mud-bound boat under Stephen’s church
starting to drift
The fossil shells and corals indicate that the limestone of…
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