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Matthew Geden


00:00 / 01:36

The coral beach crunches beneath
our feet, skitters across the floor
to the left or to the right as we follow
the wild Atlantic way driven or borne

along by the prevailing winds,
fragments scattered just
like breadcrumbs or immaculate
sea creatures reduced to dust.

Carraroe is now long past
but still we turn corners in surprise,
caught out by one new vista
a shimmering balm for the eyes.

We too were exotic once,
swam in technicolour; sea anemones,
zoanthids, blue coral, soft corals,
sea fans and sea whips, surreal reverie

in last year’s tides. Now we are ground
down, debris in the ashtray,
on the carpet or the car-seat —
soon all coral will fade away,

a reddish stain or slight blush
as the afternoon filters into dusk.

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