PICKINGS

Poetry from NHI publications



LAYERS, EDINBURGH
The boy scampers
up Arthur's Seat,
dark green weathervane
of history,
avoids the paths,
breaks new ground.
I try to follow his example.
Breath comes in heaves,
constricted by the past,
old blood spilled, corpses
reeking through veins,
odours of slides
of what must
never be again.
He's gone too far,
his face unknown.
The future blurred.
Only a bright red jacket
moving steadily higher
confirms he is there,
and a distant calling.
I grab the grass
with purple hands,
yank at roots to pull
me forward,
cling to the soil with soul,
each bead of sweat
a toast to he in front
and the ones below.
SANDRA STAAS
from
New Hope International Writing Vol.19 #1

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This page last updated: 21st January 2006.