Joan is sitting very still

 

                                                  (i)

 

                                                                         I

wis

neve

                                                                   r

 

                                                                      yin tae speak

                                                                  up

 

 

                         I could shew

                      bonny flooers

 

 

                                                I’ve got drawer   s

 

 

                                            fu

                                  I loved eatin snaw         i t

       wid       disappear in yer mooth

                                       it wid stick tae yer

 

                               laugh

 

               l i

                                            ke

 

 

             ashes

 

 

                                                 (ii)

                                                     

                                                                                   my

 

 

 

                                                                                                                     go d

 

                                                                                                            kept

 

                                                                                              time

                                                                                         wi sand

                                                                           bit

                                                                            t     en-fingered

 

         ‘ve seen

 

                ma            mind

 

 

       scrapin

 

 

 

for aw  he wanted

for aw          a

              hud

 

                                       h

                             is

 

                               comfort

 

                                  i  s like

                                                                                                    

     tissue paper                                                                              

                                                                                                      a

                                                                                                        faulded

                                                                                                        wind

 

 

 

               ma            mind

                                                                                   is aye         at

 

                                                                                              work

[Published in inaugural Wigtown Poetry Competition Anthology]