Thursday, 26 April 2007

Two England-Wales poems


Half a crescent moon
pokes over Hergest Ridge
like a shark’s fin.


Ploughlines cut into the metal of the engraver's plate.

Burin-moon has scraped its line in the copper earth.

Ink from night's supply poured in every groove.

Ready the press when sky folds against earth.

Ready the dawn, and the sharpness of the image printed.

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