Bruach Mhor

Udal Peninsula

A diet of whelks.
And more whelks.
Place me in this cist,
with care,
cover me with pebbles.
Let the weather change,
let the storms throw sand.
Drop bones of butchered animals,
quartz tools,
smashed pots.
Let sand become grass,
let grass become crops;

until the crops blow away,
bringing back the sand,
exposing smashed pots,
quartz tools,
bones of butchered animals;
until the time of the diggers,
the fine sievers,
who lift me out, with care,
check my teeth,
see I starved as a child
see I starved as an adult,
see I lived on a diet of whelks
and more whelks. 

Bruach Mhor lives by a loch, swims daily. His poems have most recently appeared in Ink, Sweat and Tears, Morphrog, The Lake, Re-Side, Plumwood Mountain, Poetry Village and Emerald (Monstrous Regiment, Edinburgh).