Salacious waves tongue iron-silver stacks
where columns of pirate planks
splinter and shatter in the tangled rape
of seaweed and biodegradable crabs.
Dolphin carcasses are gulped clean,
spitting bones of polythene bags
like brittle teeth inside shoreline gums.
Trailer flags beckon the seabird’s anthems.
I screw the lid back on the vodka bottle.
The metal bridge hangs overhead, keeping vigil
over the dead buried in the Clyde,
shawled by crayon scribbles; addict needles.
A flicked cigarette blushes, then cancels,
and my capsules tame the glass-eyed tide.
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