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Poetry About Caithness |
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Seal |
My fat pads
of oil-skinned flesh spread over the rock like dough and glisten. Blubber. Drip with a silver sheen but I’m so heavy you wouldn’t call it sleek. Whiskers.
Jowls. Damp nose like a dog’s. Come and see me slide over my rock, I dance, I weave waves. Not just blues and greens Sloping back onto my rock with my flippers jutting
out, my hair coat brill-creamed, back-combed. a croak, a yelp full of silt and echoes in empty
caves.
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