The Wave (Chris Salmon poem)The earth is still.A dog barks, a child cries,An upturned kayak floats gently down the river.Then the wave hits; a brick wall of pent-up rage, crashing, splashing, smashing over the land.Houses crumple and parents scream as it writhes; rising up like a rearing gryphon, dropping down like a sati into the pyre.The sky is broiling, boiling, screaming, pelting missiles at the wave, roaring insults that are lost in the thrashings of the earth.The wave pounds on towards a village, spitting corpses aside as it goes; a geriatric who couldn't run fast enough, a white-faced mother clutching a baby, a suicide with the pills still clutched in hi