Crosby Beach


By William Thompson

Depending on the tide, the water can be close
or distant. When the tide is out, the sand
is hard, almost cobbled, shining like a street
after rain. At high tide in winter the waves
land with all the fury of a thunder clap.
At times like those the concrete holds on,
the figures grip their plinths and close their eyes.
At any time, noise is a constant: rain
clattering on windscreens, surf turning over,
wind pushing bodily against your coat.
And when the sun sets it tangles with the clouds
so that the beach, sea and mountains in the distance
either collide or fuse or stand apart. 
What it means to us, when we’re not there,
is something close to what it is to be a step
searched for by a foot while climbing in the dark.


William Thompson is a postgraduate student at the University of Bristol and a graduate of the University of Leeds where he studied English and French Literature. His work has appeared in The Stonecoast ReviewThe Write LaunchHelicon MagazineAnima Poetry Press and The Bristol Poetry Anthology.

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