I dream twice of a fulmar
the same place
wind blasted
held and buffeted
feathers torn
body discoloured
I wondered
looked into myth
knew not the story
then suddenly
I remember
it was at hell’s mouth
I first met the bird
and when I flustered
dreamed that
I was at the mouth of hell
shopping
tripping on a stone
guarding a grandchild
loving a son
cherishing a daughter
feeling a wheeze
a tickling chafing to the left
exertion to the right
in my heart
in the sun
leaves glistening
an arching road
beyond the chase
the beechwood formidable
where the fulmar
tattered by vapours
stilled the air revealing