Cerne Abbas Giant
by Michael Brett

He is England's greatest warrior, a sexual Noah
Cast ashore by the hooded gods of geological time
And aimless history:

He is half Picasso guitarist and half cactus.

He was made in the roaring silence
Where sea wrack waves its handkerchiefs at the passing moon,

Now when our islands are pears sucked at by northern seas;
And when the lighthouse strokes the cobra headed waves,

He stands stripped of his turf, naked to his chalk
And whiter than the moon, her child.

He beckons you.

He presses your eyes close to the myriad deaths that rocked him
Into being from tides and seashells,

With all the slumbering weights of dinosaur oceans
That dreamt of being born,

Of kissing the dead alive at the bottom of the sea.

Copyright © 2012 - Michael Brett
Published: 4/12/12   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem