A collapsing umbrella,
its tottering frame rotten.
I crunch through a crooked door
on glass chunks like punched out teeth
and trespass in an Eden
of bramble, dock and bracken
serpented by fractured pipes.
I stand here to remember
when workmen’s shadows lengthened
against this whitewashed glass.
But something then disturbs me:
a plane, maybe, or the wind
making a ruined music
among the raddled panes.
Airborne once from Alderney
I glimpsed a summer Guernsey,
cuddled by the setting sun,
with all her glass glistering.
My Sarnia, my Sarnia Cherie,
faceted by industry
like a gemstone in the sea.
Peter Kenny
This poem was first published in A Guernsey Double by Richard Fleming and Peter Kenny. Peter's latest collection is called The Nightwork and is published by The Telltale Press. www.peterkenny.co.uk