Our Lady of Isbister

Jen Hadfield


O send me another last life like this –

I want the same lochans as I had before –


the wind driving spittlestrings

to skimpy shores or dark red stone;


same hot sweet slaw

of muck and shit and trampled straw;


the chimney bubbling transparent heat;

a whirlpool of Muscovy ducks;



a scrambling clutch of piglet-pups;


the wet socks

slamdunked along the washing line;


the shucked wet shirts in gospel

grey and sparkling sun;


whet white bell

of an XXL tee-shirt, swung


a sheepdog shouting

at my rolling tyres –

polecats, rabbits, caried byres                               


O send me another last life like this –

This is bliss



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