For my children
It is a stone’s throw
from the cliff edge,
tossed to a seascape,
ever washing away;
our chalk-bordered
vertical face,
atop Beachy Head –
their sign to be placed:
‘No Foreigners Allowed’
to be hammered
into the hardened Downs
by those already here –
the washed-up,
the hating, those pale,
English mongrels.