Four quid a bed in no town
House and mist, not quite a world
Square sliced, elderly coupled was the evening
and what and what.
I used to wake up in such beds from nightmare home
Outside mist, inside no house
a pint of tea
There's a war here too they say
Money flows in Limerick's Shannon,
all protection, rots the boats,
It's green and burns slowly
like everything.
And what? I own no camera,
nor the dark road shaped like long me
or no town's late burger.
I own the unenveloped steel.
Oh, and yes,
the lust for heaths.
2. Saaremaa
Near here, I found a Soviet camp.
across camp fence, near here, a corridor,
in a corridor (dark), stepped on something.
Camera flash all I have.
Camera shows, in an instant, bunch of twigs
Sauna down the corridor. In an instant I'll see.
Soviet troop fled, left tub.
Near her, all I think, near her. Now are they?
3. Failed Nocturne
If we abide by lighthouse strategies, I won't get a lift to town.
won't get a lift to town
no lift to town
Promise me you'll leave a fiver at the pub.
By the order of the stone fence, so I vow.
And on the very night which is not night
too blue for night
too blue
Next to the German runaway I sit,
Camper wheels and wine, hopes for the aurora, and hey!
The fiver, Never left it. Done the vanishing act again.
vanishing act again,
vanished again.
Top of Scotland top of of tops
The grass and the cork. Everything's light. No fence in sight.
(photos were taken around Tagaranna cliffs, Saaremaa, Estonia.)
1 comment:
I love, love this first poem. Thank you, you are my hero as writing a poem that transcends your second language is...well, I just don't know very many people who can do that, very many at all.
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