These words
are not ours: they are silica: glass,
and we place them into our walls,
we look through them to the distance,
glasses, filled with liquid,
drunk from, seen from, seen through,
not ours: they are trains, passenger & cargo,
over the track/over the track/over the track,
Anglo-Saxon-African, Anglo-Saxon-African,
Latinate, Latinate...not ours
but ships, steady, ballasted in carbon,
freighted with our fears, far off shore
or near.
And wheels. Wind. Soil. Teach them
about water, they say. Teach.
Not ours: Torch. Drum. Birdsong.
Cross. Grass. Kiss. Who
can I give them to? Who?
You.
Gerald Fleming
Contents | Mudlark No.
3
| 16 | 18 |