Seagulls

John Short

Seagulls

Abersoch

 

We laughed at my father

as he scanned the sky

 

poking at his packed lunch

under its plastic cover.

 

Gulls screamed high up

and beyond the cliffs

 

the elemental sea crashed

and swelled for ever

in conversation with itself.

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John Short lives in Liverpool and has a tiny flat near Barcelona where he sometimes goes. His poems have appeared in places like Envoi, Prole, The High Window, Poetry Salzburg Review, London Grip and Barcelona Ink. He has a pamphlet Unknown Territory (Black Light Engine Room 2020) and a collection Those Ghosts (Beaten Track Publishing 2021) and is a member of Liver Bards and Chester Poets. He blogs sporadically at Tsarkoverse.