Unsettling, the sea
coming in, as she is, at that angle,
smoothing, shhh-ing back and forth, insistent.
Underneath she’s seething: pushing in, dragging
back, mendaciously meddling at Pett Levels.
Never mind skiffle chiming tiddlywink pebbles,
voraciously she sucks out splinters from prime posts
left toothless, soft in gummy decay, uprooted, spineless.
Painstakingly, she steadily erases the traces
of piers and boats and bones.
Her battles take their time
fingernails claw at cliffs, digging deep,
scraping out raw cracks that wince in saline pain;
unearthing lime dust, stinging long into the night
and repeating at dawn; again and again and
© 2018 Jessica Taggart Rose
Jess is a writer and editor whose first poem was printed in her local paper in rural Australia when she was seven. She’s still writing.