Poetry

Storm on Norbreck Prom

The spray cutting our faces
the only thing that reminds us
that the sea is trying to break out
of the darkness below
shaking the bars screaming
we taunt it
with the wind at our backs forcing us into confidence
forcing us closer to the edge
away from the old band stand too stubborn
to give up and slip away from the storm
too bored
to give up standing so close to death
too naïve at seventeen to picture
mortality slipping too focused on
the roaring noiselessness of the gale
to hear the sound of barking
and an old man crying out

Chad Bentley