In our bathroom there's a collection of fossils - I loll in scalding water, staring upwards at these beautiful antediluvian shapes, etched in Kimmeridge Clay -
We found these fossils a few years ago - I can remember my delight when I split open a cake of dark stone to reveal its delicate secret -
The sea hissed over the rocks - I hid my spoils in a canvas bag -
Whenever I glance at these ammonites, I think of the short story by J G Ballard -
Perhaps, as I lie here, soothed by the scented water, I might hear that hopeless cry -
If I shut, then opened, my eyes, what primeval shore would I see?
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