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Tuesday, 22 December 1998 00:00

The Border

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FG11 Fence1

Who recognises this border?

A torn strip of shirt
Hanging on razor wire
In the spotlight of a searchtower
Fledglings feed and hush
Grass gapes through the broken
Concrete of a checkpoint

Do you recognise this border?

FG03 Harvested1

I'm standing by the bridge
Looking at the river
Imagining what line I've crossed
What lines I've yet to cross
Will she search me
Refuse my excess baggage
Grant me temporary visa
When does my exile begin?

Writing on the water
Drawing on it

After floods in Honduras
The roads were washed away
But a bridge was left behind
The river flowed around it

Blood flows now
Where it shouldn't flow
The Atlantic Ocean grows
At the same pace as
Our fingernails

There is no border

FG16 Contrails1

Peter Jukes 2000

Read 1989 times Last modified on Friday, 31 October 2014 23:17
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