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Untitled

Amidst the paraphernalia of natal units –
High frequency sound waves,
Disinfectant, hormone drips,
Masked midwives resplendent in
their ghostly gear –
Amidst every clinical aid –
We were born.
Bristol.
Regency city it stands, overlooking the Avon –
Smashed by the Hun
Sending Dornier death by the tonne.
We were born there
Ere the moon had risen on the seventh day
Away from the Julian din,
Remote and peaceful
In seventy-nine.
More peaceful even than the Meads,
Over to the Veddw – sheltering
’Neath the beech and fir –
There real solitude to be found.
Here I shall stay.

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