Two days now she’s coursed
The shingle,
Frothed the sea,
Fought the chimneys
I comfort myself that she’s
“Come from Russia with Love”
Last year,
After a longer spell,
I glimpsed my neighbour
At her door
With puffed face
And tear streaked cheeks.
We said that the
“easterly took him”
though we didn’t even know the chap.
Their house was snapped
Up for a tempting price.
Sure to be torn down and replaced
Shielded by layers,
A supposed rebut to the elements.
We all fear her.
I whisper
- Never let the
Easterly take me away -
When I pass by
The empty house.
It's all in the family of scholars + scribes
A new poem: Helen Gillilan
