The Pebble

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A true story — happened between me and my Dad — he was a copper in the Surrey police in the last century

The Pebble

07SundayAug 2016

 

My dad threw me a bag,
and only when I was holding
the weighty smooth sureness,
of that contained pebble, he said:

It had been removed
from a young girl’s skull,
post-mortem, it was
noted, the cause of death,

after being shot up
from its settled place,
on a wide roadside verge,
by a spinning mower blade.

Never intended to kill,
that bullet-bit remnant,
water course washed,
a history left to geology,

but now removed by blades,
from the land, and the lain,
cut from a rough bank,
and then cut from her brain.

 

https://mikebellpoems.com/2016/08/07/the-pebble/

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