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Splinters
For William Johnston, born William Coutts
Born, at least.
A little light
in the east.
What was registered
is legible –
Braik’s Close –
the light
breaks close.
What the records
said. A little
light
about your head.
°
Jean ,
her mark,
at the
paper mill:
acres of paper –
imagine her face –
acres she tills
and leaves
no
trace.
°
That streak natured
or nurtured –
a little sadness
handed down –
bother in Angus
and anger and sadness –
it stows away
and is stowed away –
a broken branch
in Brechin.
°
The field I think slopes slightly
and the man who stands there
holds himself upright –
it is an act of will
against all to which
he might be inclined –
life lived as a slight –
instead of this the light.
°
Force the door with this ,
his certificate –
that he lifted himself
into the furrow that runs,
as I think of it,
across his brow
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