Why you should always walk along a pier Julie Hogg at twilight on your anniversary, past the kiosk, under the slightly kitsch façade and kiss-me-quick cliché into tomorrow’s familiarity and intricate structure. Hold her hand when it seems she might fall through your fingers, her own intuition or the cracks in the boards where the sea slips like a dripping tap over seams and salt scars. She’s saying Scandanavia is closer than you’d think and thinking how you used to undress her with words and how she wishes, of all the beaches in the world, she’d visited that Tate one, Porthmeor, and you’re gripping iron railings like they’re a firm plannedout life, at the end of a platform, you’re losing the light, turn around fast, focus blurred sight on the promenade then come back, back, please come back.
Clear Poetry Anthology 2015
33