saturn’s cove

in the cove of the dead man
is a wall of earth, lashed by the sea,
where can be read the geologic history
of the soil, banded in layers of colour:
     brown
     tawny gold
     powdered chalk
     ash
     ribbons of red rust
     and a demarcation line of black, below which
the bedrock is slippery grey, weathered
by moons and moons, years and years,
of high tide.

the rocks between wall and sea—
boulder to rubble—
are also banded, speaking the same ancient story,
and as they approach the shore
they are covered over, all, by a slippery sea-green algae
that beckons: come closer,
here, and let the sea claim you.

(in my mind the ghostly hum
of mermaids, deep under the waves,
drifts in from far away.)

near a stream dripping from a hole in the cliff-face
as it makes its inexorable return to the ocean,
an old tree, roots exposed, juts skyward
out of the rock. is it dead?
its bare wood thrums with invisible power,
stagnant, like the shallow tidal pools below it,
and at its base, adorned with dead branches on which
inscrutable symbols are carved, is a flat, square stone,
an altar, unhewn, to the dead man.

(and i trespass, climbing into places i know
i shouldn’t go,
i trespass, because it’s all i know to do,
i trespass, because he calls me
and i, having no offering for him,
can only give him myself.)

beyond the tree, overgrown with dying ferns,
is a forking path.
     to the left a clearing where nature has reclaimed
a tent pitch, where i feel the resonance
of a great evil—who died here?
     to the right a rubbish tip,
     and up the centre path, blocked
up with dead branches deliberately placed, and a weathered wooden plaque
which resembles a tombstone,
a clearing, in which is pitched
a tent of meeting, where i dare not go.

for what would i ask
of the dead man?

back at the shore, pocket heavy with dull flints,
i find a flaked slab of shale, blue-grey
and carved by water, a grave marker
for a marooned mermaid, a beached venus,
and my eyes scan the rosy pale horizon
     for sirens riding the crests of waves
     for dragon heads peeping out of seafoam
     for the dead man’s bride, adorned
with strings of pearls.