Monday, June 29, 2015

To the highlands one October day

There walks a stranger in every corner
yet here I am, out of origin
a fish out of its tank
these are floods, the city streets
and trams, and castles and armies
I back my hand onto a wall, brush my fingertips
onto a skirt.The highland sounds,
deafening my ears, sheep, bagpipe,
human laughter.

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