Beach Watch – Charlotte McCormac

3

SLIPPING THE SHELVES

Skim shelves of old typography,
letters that have faded into age.
Some in their ninth life, pawed at


so many times. New pairs of eyes.
Many were packaged in cereal boxes,
snapped open by children at breakfast.


The faint smell of cornflakes still lingers
on the musty pages of yellow, placed
alphabetically: Beckett, Blyton, Brontë.


On plywood shelves, they mingle:
Famous Five and Malory Towers girls,
waiting to be plucked like butter-cups.


But as fingertips brush worn spines,
one slips, hides from the grain of wood.
Pull the shelving away to see


only where it has not fallen.


BEACH WATCH

Yellow goosebumps
spatter along
the curvature
of her elbows
in the salt wind.
Balloon-like buoys
bob along in
the ombré sea,
surveilling her
pony gallop
over the 
driftwood sand.

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