Return to Top
Carswell, 1962
We lived in a flight path.
Vast birds flew over us,
freighted with lethal eggs.
It was the warm autumn
of a cold war.
In school, we were herded
to the halls.
Small sheep, ripe
for shearing. We lay our
books open
over our heads, that were
tucked in
between our bended knees.
Would the knowledge
spill into our heads
that way?