Dazzle-bellied off the graphite sea,
curds flying from the churned-up agitation
of the tide; the ocean’s mouth foaming, venting
furiously onto the beach at Rossnowlagh.
Inside the thunder-ear, climbing the grey air,
slicing the storm, they stitch cloud and water, screaming
obscenities at each other; thrashing and wheeling
in the cage between a ferocious earth, indifferent Heaven.
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