Ken Smith, 1982. Reproduced with permission of Neil Astley, Bloodaxe.
Being the third song of Urias
Lives ago, years past generations
perhaps nowhere I dreamed it:
the foggy ploughland of wind
and hoofprints, my father
off in the mist topping beats.
Where I was eight, I knew nothing,
the world a cold winter light
on half a dozen ﬁelds, then
all the winking blether of stars.
Before like a fool I began
explaining the key in its lost locked box
adding words to the words to the sum
that never works out.
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