After the storm
Our dog Buster
finds a dead calf
nestling in tussock
next to a whole
tree, upturned
and vulnerable
roots exposed
entangled in sand
abandoned
along the beach
we find
iridescent bottle tops, and
a cup from McDonalds
that tells us we’ve been waiting
for this moment all our lives
And in the litter of logs
and kelp, seagulls plunder
broken shells for food
locals collect
salty firewood, and
our dog dances on wave tops
head back, teeth bared
grinning like an Olympic swimmer
who’s just won gold.
Using this item
Private collection
by Sam Rainey-Smith
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