view from a car park #3: The Breath


The Breath

“There was a man made out of earth”, they said.

“Twisted reeds and lattice-grass knotted at his heels,

And sinew born of old, old seashells tightened

Thigh and chest, and tilted head,

And knuckles pushing down to home”.

They pulled long feathers from their belts

And indented his quickly flaking skin,

Mapping out whorls and rings and family trees

Whose tight canopy seems folded twice, and falling still.

The children sit at the widest point, and watch.

Soon it is we, the children, piling soil into hands.

Over years it fills in lines,

Leaves old cracked seconds mattified.

The expectation sits on boughs above us,

Dropping the want to build a man of earth,

Or family tree

To call our own.

About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

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