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

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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