Nancy Somerville
Born 1953 in Glasgow, now Edinburgh-based. Work published in a range of magazines and anthologies. First collection, Waiting for Zebras, 2008, Red Squirrel Press (Scotland). Joined Shore Poets in 1993 and took over as convenor in 2010.
You and me
heading for the pub
in the full-heat
of the mid-summer sun, then
a bucket of frogs
waiting for a bus,
that’s what it looked like.
No-one else about,
just you and me,
heading for the pub
and a bucket of frogs
squatting on the pavement
in the full blaze
of the mid-summer sun
- more rare in Scotland
than a bucket of frogs
taking turns to try
the high jump to freedom.
Do we leave them
to croak it
boiled in a bucket
or splattered under rubber
in Dalry Road?
Heading for the pub
with a bit of a detour
to the summer-cool canal
with a pail of hot frogs,
talking about gum trees,
other frogs we’ve known
books we’ve read
and the things
that come to you
when you’re trying to find the words
with a bucket of frogs in your hand.
Heading for the pub
with a story on our lips.
- the day we saved the frogs,
and later
you saved me.
Waiting for Zebras, Red Squirrel Press (Scotland) 2008
See me?
See ma voice?
See ma neck o the woods?
Miles above the rest.
See ma hen?
Sittin oan wur eggs?
A wee gem.
Keeps the nest
spick n span
an aye gies me
a wee peck oan the cheek
whin Ah get back
fae aw this territorial work
an never a peep oot o ur.
So don’t mess wi me.
It’s jist ma beak thit’s yellae!
Waiting for Zebras, Red Squirrel Press (Scotland) 2008
I am the great divider.
Before me, was empty space,
wide open.
1876, my tips glint silver
in the Texan sun.
I bring the Longhorns up short
in the shade of the Menger
and you are awe-struck.
I’ve made great strides since
so nothing else can.
I fence off, separate,
call a halt to free-ranging.
I bring order, straight lines
to undulating hills.
Tackle me at your peril.
I will embrace you.
The barbs
of my single twist,
double twist,
concertina coils,
and razor wire ribbons,
grip and rip,
tear and maim.
I execute
decisions you make
in cold deliberation.
However much you multiply
I create division.
This is not your land;
this is my land,
every
severed
piece.
(Barbed wire sales rocketed after its use was demonstrated at the Menger Hotel in Texas, in 1876.)
from By Grand Central Station We Sat Down and Wept, edited by Kevin Cadwallendar, published by Red Squirrel Press, Morpeth, 2010
