Poem: Fishing on Crag’s Leap

Fishing on Crag's Leap

Scrambling over bony rocks

Maybe I am lost, folding

Between the billowing black of the sea

And damp footholds to my

Favourite fishing spot 

The gulls screech like thirsty

New-borns with crisp skin

Gulping at warm air.

Patches of weeds, a tender

Blood-green almost cause me to

Slip - how fast would I fall?

My fat body rolling

Down the crag face

All the time thinking

It would look like suicide

Louise Soothill