Christopher Hopkins’ poems have appeared in 14 Magazine, The Morning Star, Indianapolis Review, Rust + Moth and Ink Sweat & Tears. He is the author of three chapbooks Take Your Journeys Home; The Last Time We Saw Strangers and The Shape of a Tulip Bird (all with Clare Songbirds). Christopher is currently under the mentorship of poet, Kim Lasky. He was born and grew up in Neath, South Wales and now resides in Faversham, Kent.
Like a wash of whale carcass, when she appears.
That would have been put to better use.
Wouldn’t have seen a year.
Wouldn’t have seen a hundred years
intruding, not her innards
decking out a kitchen floor.
This tragic spur in preaching arms.
Sea ribs, sky praising,
unanswered in the bay tide’s
in the fire mirrors of late ebb –
the silver blooded birth of night.
She is loved for her wound.
Her well-being, giving
the suitcase spectrum of sand blown
views of good heart in her summer bone,
down to the softest green
of a skeleton transposing
when November musta’s up for her again,
with all the hewn sail winds
spinning ‘round her legs,
in the wedding silver of sky & sea,
the sounds of her yield retelling
in the breaking waters,
by the thick hands of south-easterlies,
with their grey axes
& bell kicks in thunder.
This carcass lady knows
& shows no shiver,
there is no other consequence.
Helvetia shipwreck is today an easily
recognised landmark of Rhossili, Gower, South Wales