Two Poems
Alistair Elliot, 22 July 1993
“... Mother Somewhere among the roots of England my mother found her rules. Some shy Shakespearean aunt taught her to eat from fairy circles and how to name a tracehorse: Forrest or Homer – coins from the wordhoard of our tribe buried in the angelic angles around home: in Long Chase, the Top, the Forty-Acre, the Pikel. School spread on this the alphabet and the best lines of Scott, and a cousin from Australia showed a way to peel an orange (about the time of Gallipoli) with a knife, in seconds – a startling modern skill in a medieval girl – but she never learned to hold reason so that it would not squirm ... ”