This poem is taken from Stand 215, 15(3) October - November 2017.

Anna Woodford Two Poems
Late Journey with my Father
I would put down my life like a book
I am halfway through and enjoy this journey
with my father as any old adults at a table
without the great landscape of my childhood
pressing at every window, and the carriages
rattling out their narrative we are stuck in.
I would have him not have to speak,
and me not have to listen to myself
calling his name Daddy Dad whatever
else I am saying. And this poem
would not have such a portentous title
with death signalled so overtly
as though Jenny Agutter is up the track
waving her scarlet bloomers but but
for the Above – the landscape, the childhood,
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