Photograph by Tony Sutton
Anything but the oyster!
Roll on the days of normal work.
I'm sick of not hitting the mark,
not getting the knife into the hinge,
not twisting at the proper point.
Roll on the end of hurrying,
of cuts, splashes, shell shards
for nothing more than
a plate of plates,
of winter rock pools:
salt-water, jelly and grit.