A Picnic

At first almost nothing,
an inkling of porcelain
as of a wind-chime’s:
then, breakers crash –

windows web and give
splintering rainbows,
sockets fizz and pop,
shelves pour books.

Outside, lawns slump,
drunk, and are gone,
apple trees thrown
like brides’ bouquets.

The cliff races inland
tearing down fields,
fences, cows, streets,
pillows of rainclouds.

Suddenly its huge roar
is drowned by silence,
the world films itself
with slow motion grace.

Clothes don’t flap
now: fathoming,
dance arm in arm
with no wallflowers.

The tablecloth trick
reverses in thick air
settling for a picnic
in the kelp forest.

A saucer see-saws
down this way, that,
to catch the teacup
gathering this storm.

Donate to Poetry London

Be a part of the next 100 issues

To donate, please click on the button below, or send a cheque payable to ‘Poetry London’ to Poetry London, Goldsmiths, University of London, New Cross, London, SE14 6NW, UK.

Donate to Poetry London today

Subscribe to Poetry London

Subscribe today!