Scrap Iron

A black steel carcass in a field of sheep
Repels the drench of light and weeps out rust
Lamenting gulped-up roads. the hedgerows smeared and blurred,
The bucking bridges and the startled birds.

The slow sap struggles to the screaming sun,
The lark upspirals on her simple song;
My spring is broken and my winter long,
This cold steel slowly burns to be a gun.

Published in Children of Albion Poetry of the ‘Underground’ in Britain, ed. Michael Horovitz, Penguin Books, 1969.