tourism

Outstanding Natural Beauty

My balcony is roofless.
I sit in heat. To the right,
the Ship on the Green,
ahead is a brick wall.

I climb onto the railing,
turn my back to bollards
beneath. Facing my airless
bedroom, I look down at

the map of my private
national park. Birdshit marks
scattered sights of interest,
outstanding natural beauty.

The drainage hole is blocked,
a dark smear of sediment
pollutes an estuary
with an oil slick’s dull sheen.

Opposite, tarpaulin
piles into stormy seas,
it’s eyelets winking sun back
like scattered storm debris.

But then, in a corner,
shielded by blue plastic waves,
two small eggs lie on twigs,
a raft for sea-smoothed pebbles.

I climb down to my room,
cooled off, freshened by breeze.
Through the open window
I await the mother’s return.


© Matthew Joseph Johnson, 2009