A Poem For Friday


“In my country” by Jackie Kay:

walking by the waters
down where an honest river
shakes hands with the sea,
a woman passed round me
in a slow, watchful circle,
as if I were a superstition;

or the worst dregs of her imagination,
so when she finally spoke
her words spliced into bars
of an old wheel. A segment of air.
Where do you come from?
“Here,” I said. “Here. These parts.”

(From Staying Alive: Real Poems for Unreal Times, edited by Neil Astley, Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books. Photo by Andrew Rollinger)