When I met God on Lafan Sands

His house become houses 
become flats 
become Brookes Tarpaulin
boarded and meshed in steel

I came across God homeless
his back to the wind
counting the blows it took 
to puff the feathers from a wigeon
angels frothing up the sea

and as I hurried by
armed with a half-smile and a no thanks
I swear I heard him mumble
I never wanted any of this

Revised version of a poem originally published in Channel, Issue 3, 2020