Bricked back lanes where
council-covered cobbles peep
from potholes in the
blackened tarmac skin;
rivers where turbine
technology pins the ghosts
of shipyards onto Roman
barracks; medieval battlefields
buried under farms, whose
crops
are wheaten-stoned houses,
unaware of any back-garden history;
nature reserves sculpted
from spoils – a green veneer
for the lost paths of dark,
drowned mines.
Beaches, untouristed – at
first sight unpalimpsest.
Yet hid in grit-grey water,
under the plane scarred sky
long settled onto the
seabed, cold-boned shipwrecks lie.
---
Penny Blackburn lives in the North East of England and writes
poetry and short fiction. Her online publication includes pieces in Writers’
Café, Bangor Literary Journal and Marsden Poetry Village and she has
appeared in print anthologies by Batley Poets and Paper Swans Press.
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