In the South Coast Light
by MARK MILLER 1. This morning the mistcomes apart before me,like fabric, like ashes ––revealing at low tidesea-wrack and bottle-caps,necklaces of purple sea-grapes,bluebottles and ribboned weed,and like part of an oldbicycle tyre twisteda bludgeoned eel,its hooked mouthhauled into a snarl…