Believe you can and you’re halfway there
A man kneels above the wrack line. He digs.
His knees sit in hollows like loosened pebbles.
He digs. The grass is cross-hatched. He digs.
The swash is shrink-wrapped. He digs.
I am just digging, he says, and digs. With fingernails
sanded to Tupperware, digs. Just digging, he says,
and digs. Please don’t make this mean what
it doesn’t. He digs. He is talking at me. He digs.
Of course, I say, and he digs. But the sand. He digs.
The sand which is dry. He digs. The sand which is fine.
He digs. This scene has no meaning. Downwards,
he digs. The sand trickles back. The sand trickles back.
He waits for the tide. He waits for the tide.
Ali Lewis is a twenty-five-year old poet from Nottingham, now based in Streatham. He has been published in Ink, Sweat and Tears and The Cadaverine, and has work forthcoming in Asterism, a new anthology by Silkworms Ink. He will begin his Creative Writing MA at Goldsmiths this year.