An old one ( this end of year’s tidying up is producing a lot of nearly-forgotten poems! I’ll have to post a new one soon)
I used to walk often down by Cox’s Bay ( before it was cleaned up a bit). Always a lot of stuff that had been tipped. Always disappointing to see, but a mangrove swamp back then was considered wasteland and suitable for dumping. I have always loved mangroves – one of the topics for our special study in Bio at seventh form ( now year 13) which I taught for many years
The fridge in the mangroves
The fridge in the mangroves is tide-marked
divided into grubby white and rust
once cornucopia now forgotten symbol
an oil slick gently strays
from the adjacent engine block
the trees are stunted
at the limits of their temperature range
they are an intense green camouflage
for most of what we abandon here
global warming could see the fridge under water
human detritus transformed to
a small reef with flickering crowds of fish
though the engine block would still leak rainbows
to surround the trunks of towering mangroves
Beginner's Pen 