Guilty

Wheeling above
a lone gull cries
as a killer's reflection
stares back
from the rockpool at my feet
There is no life
only jagged grey plastic
with grubby green stubble
washed and unwashed
by each stinking tide
I barely recognise
the boy in short trousers
who caught blennies
and gobies here
kept crabs in a bucket
rushing to Mum
with a five pointed star
Only the rocks look the same
crouched sterner than naked time
pouring scorn on our madness
while the wind screams murder
into my eyes