One day they will surely betray me.
For now, they seem content to drowse
resolutely without wit or purpose
like autistic sharks ballooning
through seaweed, rock and sand
of fish cities deep in blackout.
While I’m trying to trust, one breaks
the Gareloch’s surface and fixes
its stunned gaze on the mirrored sky.
Things are as they should be –
the clouds, the flotsam, the stranger
peering from the shore with my face.
The second it drops, I no longer exist.
It has no memory, no plans.
The water rises, the sky falls,
and I am as blue is to the fish.
Rob is also currently poet of the month on the Scottish Poetry Library's website, where you can find his poem "Glory Box". I'll replace him there about half way through the month.