The river

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The river Listen, close your eyes boys, and listen hardI want you to stretch deep under these bunks,downstairs below the kitchen floorthrough concrete, rocks and mudpast cracked clay pipes tossed by rope walkersand along slabs of Roman road worn wit...

The river

Listen, close your eyes boys, and listen hard
I want you to stretch deep under these bunks,
downstairs below the kitchen floor
through concrete, rocks and mud
past cracked clay pipes tossed by rope walkers
and along slabs of Roman road worn with steps
of tired legions, then down the cold smooth wall
to the black mossy banks of the river.
Can you hear the it gently
flowing? Edging darkly seawards without even a moon
to glisten the ripples above shoals of blind
salmon, who leap through hot air for no one,
but me.
There's a tunnel from the garden
down to my boat and I drift along
in blackness, just listening out, ready
to be back in a second, if ever you need me.

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