So we beat on, boats against the current by Andrew Senior

An aging voice carries like remembered waves tipping over,
beating down what will become this place -
a million remains, sharp carpet for our feet.
Your eyes blue, the unclouded sky.

Child-shivers deep as the sea waters swaying.
Our endless chasing like dog and ball on sands.
When each discovery, each excavation, each unearthing came
with the beat of wings rising.

Flies find adventure in rotten seaweed,
the colour of oil and rust. Wound of dominion,
shiver of loss, memory of wing, and a wave
washing over discarded scrap.

Andrew Senior lives in Sheffield, UK with his wife and three children and writes whenever he can find the time to do so: poems, short stories and essays. His writing frequently confronts loss and seeks hope.