Three Poems

Michael Hofmann

Ingerlund

The fat boy by Buddha out of Boadicea
with the pebbledash acne and half-timbered haircut,
sitting on the pavement with his boots in the gutter –

we must have made his day when we pulled over
and asked him for the site of the Iron Age fort
in his conservation village.

My Life and Loves

Frank Harris. And a syringe for afters.

Parerga

In the bedside drawer of a hotel room
in the black naugahyde and pigtail German Eighties,
I came upon the Yellow Pages and a Gideon Bible,
one of them – which one? –
pregnant with the local chickenhawk guide.