The Floating Harbour
The harbour wall is as high as a ship;
a lock keeps the water up –
the angled iron-and-wooden gates
no longer hold a fortune but
the sound of water that bubbles and spurts
as mud silts, and stains, the harbour wall
that gulls and their shadows cross.
All that’s left is a weight of water
stored to lift a narrowboat
and lower it, to bring the vessels in
or out, to learn the mechanics of water.
*Richard Lambert was born in London in 1971. He has published a pamphlet, The Magnolia (Rialto, 2008) and recently graduated from the Creative Writing MA at UEA.