Poetry Corner: Hastings Woman
BEN FAIRLIGHT
Our sea front is all curvy lines and flowing smiles,
Rock-striped huts and hats that glint for miles
Along sand and shingle and rainbow-dot dresses.
And then, across a crowded prom, the Goddesses’
Goddess herself breezes ‘tween team skate-bladers,
Wafts her scarf stylish, while paraders and followers,
Bides her shades, basking strollers, panting dog walkers,
Flicks her head back, as three towel robe wallowers
Whistle her and each other and coasting cyclists
Together all sway, sculpting joy out ‘ the air
To ripple out the dance over cars, motorcyclists,
Shop windows, wan storerooms, streets in Ore village,
Through Old Roar jewellers after her own image
So sought after, so ever-young, so never there.
Seen her anywhere?
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