Home

Geography

He held us to account with a crooked eye
and an unnervingly accurate chalk-shot.
We were constantly aware and ready
but couldn’t gauge his unpredictability,
one of us always took the marksman’s shot.
With black cape inflated
he swept down to recover his missile,
then returning to the green blackboard
squeaked long words that bled white dust.

Spinning then stopping the earth with a finger,
watching us from two directions, he said ‘China.’
What did we care? Margate was a foreign land to us,
its sandy beach and flashing fairground
where we could only lounge and stare
with the nonchalance of longing.
Our geography was the dingle by the railway,
hazlewoods for Tarzanning, the railway line,
caves in white cliffs above the channel
beyond which great cargo vessels passed.
We had one eye only on that moving seascape
lacking his crooked view to foreign lands.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: