And Nagaland! I was gripped by a panic that only subsided with the arrival of a mysterious Mars Bar.
For a long time now I have not been able to write anything that resembles poetry, despite trying several times, but as I thought of Africa and dust on my boots these words shaped themselves.
the cut and yammer of it
the 4th raked high
the hiss of water up the sand
it seems as if there should be more of that
more of…. something
a flash of blue and red between the trees
it’s just enough
and then it goes
and all you can do is
lick your thumb
push and slide it 'til the smoothness squeaks
press press the coin down hard and drag it along the paint
to scratch away the surface and show the shiny metal underneath
a silver glint
that flash of blue and red again