Aonghas MacNeacail

1942 / Isle of Skye

You wait

you wait
where the voices are singing
like old iron
and the eyes like
neon windows

though you should fill each
hour and day with
knowledge and learning
the brain will not overflow,
set the schooling you got
far down
in the dark deep pit of
forgotten spats and sicknesses,
the shell-strewn shores will
still be under your bare feet, there
to cut
into your skin and flesh,
the bright shores of summer
86 Total read