On Becoming a Fish

By Emily Hinshelwood

Poetry Wales Press Ltd

Copyright © 2012 Emily Hinshelwood
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-85411-577-5

Contents

Sandscape After Hours,
Westphalian,
Lady Cave Anticline,
Mrs Cheveley in the Conservatory at Tenby,
The Goldfish,
Seduction,
Lady in White,
Skinny Dipping,
First Flight,
Edge,
First Baron Cawdor of Castlemartin,
Stack Rock,
Looking for Glow-worms,
Bubblepop and the Devil’s Balls,
Handover,
Raspberry Ripple,
Daughter,
Jetties,
Bazaar,
Beetroot,
I.K. Brunel,
Maritime Museum,
On Becoming a Fish,
Dale Field Studies,
Wreck,
Intent,
Driftwood,
Bird Watching,
The Woman at The Lobster Pot,
Francess Bevans,
Mayflowers,
Unexpectedly,
Porpoise Washed Up,
Did Cavemen Build Sandcastles?,
Pen Dinas,
On the Gribbin,
Searching for a map of Pembrokeshire in Pembrokeshire,
Wishing Well,
Great Bitch of Ramsey Sound,
Kyrie Eleison,
Coetan Arthur Burial Chamber,
The Purple Sandpipers,
Jetsam,
Blue Lagoon,
Quarry,
Halloween in Trefin,
Bladderwrack,
At the Memorial Stone to Dewi Emrys,
Honeymoon,
The Last Invasion of Britain, 1797,
Fishguard Lifeboat Crew,
Dusk Chorus,
Crossing the Estuary,
Boat,
The Golf Course,
Malleus Maleficarum,
Final Walk,
Acknowledgements,

CHAPTER 1

    Sandscape After Hours

    Amroth

    Each footprint a journey
    turns the beach into dreamtime.

    They collide, converge
    in silent riot of unmet strangers:

    perhaps a supple body twisting,
    flicking sand wishes to the wind

    or two minds in opposition
    slinging firm prints in terse lines

    and there, a loner shuffles
    an exotic weft into the mesh
    then falters.

    The sun’s glance burns
    into the depth of every step

    every pattern of feet on sand,
    each strand weaving dreamfibres

    without start or end
    just journeys

    and
    sweet sea havoc on the turn.

    Westphalian

    Wiseman’s Bridge

    The rocks have worn to a sauna of bodies
    draped irreverently across the shore.

    There is no thought, amongst these grey masses,
    for sleekness. The beauty is in bulges and creases.

    Sun drags over bellies, hot breasts
    tummyholes crammed with small stones

    and bits of crab. They are idle. Exude heat.
    Oblivious to the chopper grinding overhead.

    They glow. In the grand scheme of things
    they have seen mountains swell, crack, twist

    erode. They know the wind will change.
    They know they will clasp rigid, naked,