Pier In A Gale

The pier is having a panic attack The sea is rearing up like a juggernaut A hooded cameraman, eyes scrunched behind wet lenses Films a string of flags near torn from their sockets A woman anchors her husband with a hug The sky's stripped clean of gulls Storm watchers totter about like skittles The storm's like a warship cracking whelks It has put paid to candyfloss, postcard venders, The sun's a blearie cataract The wind screams like a banshee Clouds are snagged on lampposts Whip-lash sand tattoos the faces Of yobbos taking selfies