- Vol. 05
- Chapter 10
Notes on a past country
Morning black-tied, coat furled like an armistice, walking through streets of still houses as lost as a tree deprived
squirrel when all is mapped with piss of dog and rustling hedges. Such a foot-fallen landscape of differences. His old
ghost trains shuffle in with shrill pig-eyed steel, spidering skeltering lamps. So starts the long tunnel of remembering.
It begins with a punctuation of cemetary-bound bridges, a quiet sentence of river slickening underneath. How her
school-walk hands held him knuckle tight along the brick, a twist-wrist of words towing there and back, flotsam jetsam
days, ginned laughter, broken glass, her sudden flaunting sun that always waried him to windowed waiting. An anchored
ciggy corner-shop, rough skinned trees, that salt-green smell of garden green, it all passes by as if her dying makes her live.
Now in an impossible forgiveness of flowers, family stand, cormorants lined up thin-lit along a cliff above her shadow.