The Corner

Round the block and
Back to the starting corner where
The bricks are the same
But different, and the people
Smile, differently, and all the
Hands look the same but feel
Strangely clammy,  and, all
Eyes averted at the
Signs were big and red that say
This is the way it is - different
Bed and board, different
Attitude - swayed  by
Time and incident, the drug
Of life nearly
Sent her round  the wrong
Bend, but here she is,
Year one,
As if she never had been here
At this corner before - but I
Recognise  its slant, its sharp
Edge, but it is a
Mirror of itself, an age
Away from the first one
And I must cut my
Hands on it, cut my
Teeth on its edge, this
Different place I walked to
And saw  clearly for the
First time
As I go round
A second, and last
Circuit, with a small
Wisdom in my  grip, a small
Light in my eyes, a small
Energy of step, treading
Carefully lest I
Loose my  grip on
The ledge,
Mistake the route, stop
Watching the clock.
Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem