Philip Burton 09/02/2008 Tiltingly, on the skull of Thanet, stands the up-front garage flat, a broody gull on a chalk shelf, tagged by coveting foam. Briny drains, a dulcitone of sound. Whistling combs rake the sea's wounds. I dead-head the daffodils behind the happiness of old flint walls in the shelter of the house, in its landward wake, in the garden tapestry whose final thread is never drawn. Cliffs of jonquils. A daisied span of lawn. Lynchet banks of primrose. Waving aspen. Published in the anthology Home, by University of Central Lancashire in April 07.