My Poetry; Hunst'un

Hunst'un

---

It’s June and the streets are pretty
much deserted in Sunny Hunny.
I sit watching the promenade's
hardy city tourists trudge
hunting for candy floss and souvenirs
around clearance sale shops
with fading, tattered veneers.
Jelly arsed woman and bald men
cower from the shower
under the canopies dotted along shore

of shellfish and burger stalls.

I watch the bus trip tourists,

steam rising from their hands,
move to bench to consume tea,
coffee and hot doughnuts.
The matriarch of the group sits
beneath a large blue and red umbrella;
they smile despite the drizzle.
These people have no idea
they are becoming immortalised,
statues chiselled from words,
have no idea what it means to
slowly calcify in this small town.

The rain falls lazily, steadily
flat grey sky from horizon to horizon.
On concrete wall, barricading beach
from the rest of the world, I remain.
Thunder, like a death rattle,
reaches across the wash,
the sea-side resort breaths heavier,
the fairground far right
works on half mast, rides closed,
just the dodgems and arcade
throw fluorescent beams of noise
onto the glistening world,
a reminder of yesterday’s promises
today has failed to honour.

Behind this is Hunst’un town centre.
The town closes at 5pm.
Coffee and clothes shops,
discount stores and local bores
head home to prepare for tomorrow.
Walking past funeral parlour
I see it’s taken on the keys
from closed Co-op shop next door,
as if death has started to take over
slowly ingesting this town
one bit at a time.

http://norfolkdialect.com/villages.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hunstanton