Three Poems
Jean Sprackland, 6 February 2003
No Man’s Land: I
Every day I walk this tightrope of tarmac, blown toppling in the wake of juggernauts. I walk it to learn the line of the road, to keep my place on it. When I was a lad my dad took me to a strange part of town, left me to find the five miles home – a stiff task that taught me to trust my feet. In a car, it’s all distortion, one landmark smudging the next:...
