Crepuscular Swimmer

Wandered down to Blackrock and as I crossed the bridge I noticed a couple swimming and larking about in the ruins of the Baths. Enough of the sea had flooded in to make a kind of enclosed mini-beach. I told them it was good to see people making use of the place. They were friendly but a bit mystified, new to the area, visitors (French I think, from the accents).

Here's a recent short poem I wrote about the place:

Blackrock Baths

Derelict for decades, it’s finally gone
along with its three-tiered diving tower
(all those impressions on the air)

that became a perch for gulls and gannets
as history’s changing rooms –– wet towels,
slippery wooden slats, the chill

anticipated like a slap –– filled
with inflationary graffiti, nests of beer cans
and deep-pile, wall-to-wall sand ––