Wight

Crumpled beneath troubled cumulus

the island

a badly shaken tablecloth

lies carelessly thrown,

its frayed edge chines

dip their hems into the sea.

This wight,

a diamond crumb

harshly torn,

ripped from Hampshire’s

fractured skirts,

crouches wind-blown-wild

as witches knickers like spinnakers

flap loudly in the trees.

To quench this tempest

dragon’s teeth needles

slather in wild surf

and flippantly percolate the spume

skyward

in frittered foam cloth

Published by grahamrsherwood