Unpicking the Green (Poetry)
11th August 2009
They hunch and squint
like old women criticising
someone else’s knitting
they poke and prod
with knarled brown fingers
uglier than twigs
they scratch about
and find the knotted ends
tied into Spring
unravel weeds
and rip at roots’ close stitches
tacked beneath
they have undone
the work of weeks —
the sun’s amazing needle
they show no heed
to natural warp and weft —
Earth’s fascinating spindle
instead, they cut the threads
scissor green into a shape
that wasn’t meant
leaving no room for the wild —
these black-bag witches are
a race intolerant.
like old women criticising
someone else’s knitting
they poke and prod
with knarled brown fingers
uglier than twigs
they scratch about
and find the knotted ends
tied into Spring
unravel weeds
and rip at roots’ close stitches
tacked beneath
they have undone
the work of weeks —
the sun’s amazing needle
they show no heed
to natural warp and weft —
Earth’s fascinating spindle
instead, they cut the threads
scissor green into a shape
that wasn’t meant
leaving no room for the wild —
these black-bag witches are
a race intolerant.