Saturday, 29 November 2008

Poem Ending with a Line from Vong Phaophanit’s ‘All That’s Solid Melts into Air (Karl Marx)’

We each devise a moral map,
charting the breadth of the swollen river
as it wends with the tugs
carting freight through our capital,

whose floodzone rolls to hinterland chalkhills’
downfold, scarp and uplift.
Our hearts have the capacity to remember.

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