Two Poems: ‘The Excavation’, ‘The Watchers’
Ruth Padel, 20 February 2003
Travelling ends. Fur’s losing condition. Brittle, each ginger hair-tip will snap. Rubbed patches appear on the rump as they squeeze into underground tunnels, flatten themselves under fences in wet sieve of rain, scuff through concrete hole four inches square. Greeting the year with a clear soul, she looks for a family earth. Her mother, her grandmothers dug in cement...