Lynn White

In Memoriam

She met Max in Germany

digging up pre-historic graves

in a summer vacation.

He was an Art student,

a Sculptor

and later 

he cycled to Florence to view ‘David’

in all his marbled flesh.

Later still,

on his return

he slept on the sofa

in our shared student house.

In recompense

he carved a large number ’14’

in our sandstone gatepost

with a rusty spike 

and a half brick

that he found

in the tiny front yard.

There was no gate.

Where are they now?

I don’t know 

but still

the gatepost stands 

in memoriam

a landmark

alone 

without a gate.

The Curved Window

Our Spanish room was simple,  

a bit dusty, with two narrow beds, 

a wash basin, a small table

and a shared toilet in the passage.

Normality in Spain back then.

But it was our first Spanish room

and we were happy!

The owner was nice,

‘doux, comme le sucre’

as my friend told him.

But he spoke no French.

We shopped in the corner shop with

the curved window

which became our landmark

to find our way back home

through the labyrinth of small streets.

At night we explored them

enjoying the clubs and cafes and bars

and the company of lively people.

Then we found our window

and made our way home.

Home to a locked door that

no amount of banging or shouting 

would cause to open.

A passer-by showed us the system.

He clapped his hands loudly

and a man appeared with a big bunch of keys,

enough to fit the locks of several streets.

Normality when Franco reigned.

He let us in with a smile.

He was ‘doux, comme le sucre’

my friend told him,

but he didn’t understand.

Forty years later we found the street.

Our landmark, the curved shop window 

showed us the way.

It was all still there, though only in facade,

waiting for reconstruction or demolition.

The facade of a memory that

is still there and remains

‘doux, comme le sucre’

and we understand.

A moment in history.

It’s all gone now.

First published in Silver Birch Press ‘Landmarks’ series, August 2020

Crop-Marked

Only look

down

and

Medieval England lies

there still.

The old strips, 

the common land

not yet enclosed

the common people

not yet expelled.

Then there are the newer parts.

The squares

of enclosed fields

divisive hedges

the common people

expelled

unseen

buried 

in time.

All the crop-marks of history

lying there

exposed

even when invisible.

But those circles

are revelations

unexplained

by history.

It’s unclear now

if they are new or old

modern mystery making 

or ancient landmarks

spirit visitations,

fortifications,

tombs,

or

another

mystery

still

the crop-marks can’t tell us.

First published in Kelly Austin-Rolo Challenge, Ekphrastic Review, Feb 23 2024