The Western Strand

We are torn as the air is torn,
but taking the strand in our stride,
where we have come from as it was,
where we are going no nearer,
a beach with always the same man
and his dog, each free of the other,
the good stones photographed
away from the bad, the rocks made
mythological to be seen differently,
the clean black waves coming
in threes, then towering sevens,
torn as the air is torn by the sand.

Howard Wright lectures at the Ulster University, Belfast School of Art. He is twice winner of The Frogmore Prize. He was awarded second prize in last year’s Ver Poets Open and Commended in the McLellan Prize. Poems have since been published in Scintilla, Abridged, Poetry Ireland and Cyphers.

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