MARGARET BRADSTOCK


Weedy Seadragons


They tumble and drift in the current
undulating spines moving
          over bare sand   like seaweed
the scrimshaw of skeletons.
Their long snouts suck in shrimp
          and sea-lice
outlines of their bodies
ringed with bony armour
gossamer appendages (fronds)
                an ornate camouflage.
Smaller than a tea-cup
they are bizarrely beautiful.

Giant pink boulders
        algae-stained
holes burrowed out by generations
                         of black sea-urchins
meet this psychedelic highway.

                        *
The smell of banked-up drains
     at the far end of the beach
fractured coke cans
waterlogged plastic
                the silent predators.
Things manmade rust and implode.

                        *
We are born of dragons, an anachronism
                          the sea's teeth.
The sea sucks at its own edges
like tattered lace
      the ocean's gasp
Quartet for the End of Time.