Out on the crumbling landscape’s farthest edge,
Their winter journey starts, and while I know
Some names, I can’t recall from stripe of wing
Or sobbish cry which honours which. And so

This panic by a fading coastal ledge
Is all that’s left — an urgent need to bring
Old screams back round in one last salt-sprayed plea,
Reminiscence crashing up the sand:

The wave-break when you pushed away my hand
Eroding me down to an enemy,
Beginning our migration with your words.
Let memories collapse, claimed by the sea;

Let them like washed-at shorelines go: like birds

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