RECOLLECTIONS AT ANGOURIE
An iron tooth wedged in a concrete jaw,
this last fragment of a railway line
is now abandoned to the wind.
The insistent thrust of waves
dredges up fossilized wood, slams it down
among pebbles of jasper, quartz, cowrie shells.
Rock pools entertain starfish, sea anemones,
beneath a slowed surge of water:
a long wrinkle that advances and retreats.
Here a man saved himself from drowning,
clutching the spike against the frenzy of a wave
that rose, a giant from the snarling deep.
fingers, or their ghosts, imprint the mind.
Fifty years later my hands curl
towards the spike in a reflex of fear.
From the rock we gaze over ocean.
Tongues of foam flick our feet
and the waters clamour under hot sun.
Lynette M. Arden