As heat is draining from the sky,
though latent, preserved where they lie,
blast change approaches, hours trail by:
ancestral birth, race, traits remain,
but nation, faith, known name transpose
as flat horizon lifts, up rolls,
Marcoussis, ville, joined frame and fame.
The beach purveying slabs of meat,
here now a jigsaw, puzzle fit,
mix matrix, bodies, sun and beach.
So gather pieces, catch the eye,
seek out the corners, choose straight lines,
the items making claim from scene,
a knee, a belly, elbow, toe,
swung languid arm to floppy hand.
The rocks, bold blocks that stock the seen,
stack-pack on pebbles, beige to tan,
some burnt sienna, bluff, rough cove,
sum umber buff, skin swarthy tones –
but in those bodies, lying sand,
tell, what is dune, what flesh on land?
For there, the space for what required,
but is that what the seekers found;
as muscles might with mussels join,
so did they know strand, brawn are bound?
Mesh plexus shadows graticule –
are figures numbers? Flesh, our blood!
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church, has had over 150 pieces published by on-line poetry sites, including Nine Muses Poetry, printed journals and anthologies. https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/