Forensics at Torpoint

Disguised by the savageness of age,

half hidden by seaweed’s creeping fingers,

there is evidence of industry.

Vessels tired from embattling seas

were held fast here;

to slumber before wading out once more

into untidy, unforgiving, seas.

Well fed gulls quawked their chaotic chorus

as fish guts littered the shingles

and pungent incense rose to meet them.

Men and women with leathered faces,

tough as winter storms,

laboured here

in the dark and distant days.

Now, a few men scavenge for bait

in the mud encrusted estuary,

shadowed by hungry gulls

and the haunting echoes

of long forgotten seafolk

valid as mermaids.