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eric beach


sonnet


grooves like a derwent dawn
beaten copper punched aluminium cadmium zinc
& a jarosite barge returning too soon, I think
to dump where it sinks
of course it stinks
as we skate round th rink
of protest & sign away trees with ink
bathers at seven mile beach in th pink
prefer sea to estuary, nude with tact
derwent water's not fit for primary contact
our culture is a ghost
we're left tryihg to join th dots
so we roll empty oil drums down th main street
to where sea & sky & parliament meet