The maw of the old mine
shaft reminded me
of the stove-in mouth
of an end-of-the-line lush,
left gaping there glistening
by bored kids, pockets turned out
and left out like in a cartoon, teeth
spittle-glittered down his rags
like Egyptian gemstones
or Gretel crumbs
leading nowhere


And O in howled
the wind off the plastic sea,
the dog lead taut, the cliff giddying
below, elbow to elbow bumping
up against one another
like refugees in a breadline,
both scared so close
to the edge


And in the distance a storm
black sky gathered
like coins rattling
towards a good cause,
like tomorrow,
like next year,
like hope.