The surf disperses like sawdust
as our bow prods through the water.
Provisions bleat in the hold.
Our chart sketches a child
bounced off the knee of Gaul,
but as the chalk begins to loom
you might think land once ruled here,
not the waves that rise as we return.
The sky has flooded more workings.
The tribes are assembling to fight.
Under our feet
the crossing skews the keel.
From the pamphlet Across the Water (Longbarrow Press, 2012). Alistair Noon’s Longbarrow publications are available to purchase here.