CHANT

It’s five oclock
And raining
The newsagent closing
passengers dash across guttering

the final leg home
The milk and bread to get
The iron gate to close

Tell me once again
Are you hesitating to protect the legend ?
turn the family plot over once more
Tell me how she was born

The Chant flies out of the local’s mouths
high up into the mountains’ rare oxygen
there, laid out on the rocks
Surf splashing over her
Her Sealy skin
And Seaweed hair
her Nickname
generic to the area
a Chant
Passed between local’s
out the sides of their mouths
Chant
her name
Chant