Marsden

(Feeling abroad,even in one's own country).

Wedged like cheese
in the scissors of the Coln,
smeared up the sides like a butty
smoke and stone, music, different tongues
catch my ear
tease my eye
wet my lips.

Bank Bottom’s broke
and cloth is cut more carefully,
spring long gone
the chance of a cuckoo, to
catch my ear
tease my eye
wet my lips.

Black Standedge tunnel burrows the
glorious autumnal moors,
hiding darker secrets still,
I’m mind to cower as voices
catch my ear
tease my eye
wet my lips.


© Graham Sherwood 10/2014