Trampled (in the shadow of Scotland Forever!)

It is not only my lowest ebb

that sees me turning familiar corners

Returning to calls

of footsteps that fade, as feet near

The grey follows

Catches me when movement ceases

In the creases of long released

smiles and frowns

(aisles and gowns, surely)

trials of a crown poorly placed at coronation

The cornerstone of my congregation

Semite corner of oil and elation

The brush strokes, determination

Turn right in spite at left remorse

See unbroken man astride broken horse

(written infront of Lady Butler’s oil on canvas, “Scotland Forever!”, which hangs in the Arnold and Margorie Ziff gallery, Leeds Art Gallery)

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