|
Note
on
Rye
An
atmosphere poem? Somewhat.
It describes a waitress figure in this ancient, cobbled port in
East Sussex as
the mummy who forgives us our small greed.
She
tidies up, a mythical figure, forgiving the tourists who want to ‘eat
in’ all they can while they’re there, to
digest the streets down to their cobbled spines,
nibble the scallops on the rectory styles
and top off with the evening’s salad air.
That’s
something they don’t do at work.
For some reason this dutiful voracity gets to work only on trips
away from home. It’s
childish, hence the matriarch who tidies.
Alan
Marshfield
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