Sea Areas -- by Zephirine

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Plymouth, Portland, Wight, Dover:
a south coast child, I lie awake listening to the wind howl
as forecast.
New bungalows are built behind the sea wall, where no-one ever builds,
and then the sea
- south westerly severe gale force 9 gusting to storm force 10, visibility poor -
picks up the shingle beach
and throws it
at the little houses
and later in the calm we go to look
- light to moderate, south easterly veering south, visibility good -
at dolls’ house bungalows, their front walls broken down, the open rooms
with lightshades
hanging
and the furniture still there under the shingle.

Bleak names, Fisher, German Bight, Iceland
Lowlands, Lowlands away my John
Bailey, Faeroes
cruel north
Viking and Cromarty

Forties, Dogger, Humber, Thames:
nineteen fifty-three, two thousand lives lost: a spring tide
and wild winds
- storm force 11, north-westerly backing north, visibility moderate -
form a storm surge far in the north that thrusts down through the whole North Sea
a tsunami with no earthquake,
and the water
driving south
to where there is no storm, sweeps over and sweeps away
the lowland villages and homes
- Severe weather warning: too late -
a boy of ten gets off the bus, back from shopping, and his house has gone
his family inside…

Shanty names, Trafalgar, Biscay
There we lay till next day in the bay of Biscay oh
Shannon, Rockall
wild Atlantic
Malin and the Hebrides

Sole, Fastnet, Lundy, Irish Sea:
long ago
the crushed Armada limping northwards round Ireland into the open ocean,
- storm force 10, north-westerly, visibility poor -
is wrecked
along the coast
from Antrim to Kerry.
Not knowing his longitude, the admirably named Sir Cloudesley Shovell
gets lost,
and loses
the finest ships of the English fleet on the dragons’ teeth of Scilly
- gale force 8 gusting force 9, westerly, visibility: fog.
and the sea
before and since has taken vessels of all sizes, galleons, yachts, trawlers,
sailors, fishermen, travellers, captains
smashed
on rocks
or driven onto sandbanks,
coughing their last lungs full of brine and weed
The salt seaweed was in his hair, my Lowlands away

Round these small islands a monster roams
strong beyond belief
hardly restrained by walls and levees
never captive
letting us play when in placid mood
- southerly, light, visibility good -
never tame
strengthened yet further by the warming globe.
Imminent.
We need to know what it’s doing
at all times.

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