This poem is taken from Stand 237, 21(1) March - May 2023.
Two Poems
Heading to what was Home
Slapping rain, roads that swoop under my
brakes. Next day, woken by crows’ aargh
in the trees, I walk to where the Irt flows
beside the Mite, hear mum’s voice saying
...
Slapping rain, roads that swoop under my
brakes. Next day, woken by crows’ aargh
in the trees, I walk to where the Irt flows
beside the Mite, hear mum’s voice saying
...
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