Moon-egg – a poem by Camilla Lambert

Camilla Lambert

Where the beach
had pushed the sea
down and stretched out
in ribbed sand to the rocks,
he bent down, picked out a pebble.

A pale moon,
he told himself,
feeling its curve nestling
in his palm. Or a hungry star?
Its pocked skin smelled of cold space.

He turned it over,
assessing the weight.
Or a sandpiper’s egg?
He tapped, sifted thoughts.
No, this one must be a moon-egg.

He laid it down
on a nest of blackened
bladder-wrack as waves
flickered across the sand
to lick around the cratered shell.

He left it circled,
resting behind the world,
as neap tides slid to spring
Only the dunlin flocks were there
to see a new moon slip up above the sea.

‘Moon-egg’ by Camilla Lambert was highly commended in the Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition (August 2016) judged by Terry Jones