Poem: ‘Gun Salute’
Marion Harris, 1 October 1987
What could we do, you coming all the way down to London (day return) and me
learning fast for exams? Looking up from atomic spectra, I said ‘A walk,’
but I honestly never planned on bellowing men, or a band,
or horse-drawn guns. Twenty-one near seismic bangs, then
my desk and your train. Rest for the horses, pints for that military sweat.
