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We trawl for the talismans of time travellong pewter shores and craggy poolsOur six-year-old selves caughtin bowls of brine, mirrors to rippleour reflections outwardsYour red wellies a sudden thrillagainst the lash of rock, salted in mistyour edges beginning to softenBut you are too far outEver searching for the ridged whorlsof ancestry. We dream of soothing the indentationsreading the braille of the Jurassic. Lineage we can traceto the curve of our spines, cochlear, the guppy entitieswe werein our unknown mother’s caul. The ache to find the originsso raw in our bones. But you are too far outwhen you call - -a benediction bouncing throughthe cloying haze. I see you, twenty years outa diminutive hologram projectedonto the billowed canvas of mist stitching sea and skytogether. Your tubby fingers claspthe shale stored nostalgia of a creature, heldhigh but you are too far out. I watch youblurring into insubstantiality, a chalky outline clasping the beginningof an answer. But you were too far out. I could only watchyou dissolve. The becoming . Your red welliesfossilised in my ever looping memory