Poem
Jane Draycott
WESTERNAYS
WESTERNAYS
WESTERNAYS
is when your car ends facing backwardson the wrong side of the road
when the wind beats your umbrella
till its insides all hang out
when the water takes your little boat
and spins it like a plate.
It’s like a song reversed, a church
constructed widershins
to face the falling sun, the day
next week or sometime soon
you’ll take a truth and twist it,
turn a child to face the wall
or force a man stark naked
to get down and lick the floor.
It’s the dream which has you driving
down exactly the wrong street
as you race to reach your boat
before it sails.
It’s the wind along the western quay,
the voices in its throat
the seaman on the closing doors,
the words you hear him shout
I\'ll wait. I\'ll wait all night
if need be. I can wait.
© 2009, Jane Draycott
From: Poetry London
Publisher: Poetry London, London
From: Poetry London
Publisher: Poetry London, London
Jane Draycott
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1954)
Jane Draycott was born in 1954 and studied at King’s College, London, and then Bristol University, where she studied for a postgraduate degree in Medieval English Literature. She is a TS Eliot Prize shortlisted poet, and has been nominated for the Forward Prize three times. Draycott won the Keats-Shelley prize in 2002, and in 2004 she was named as a Next Generation Poet. The Poetry Book Society...
Poems
Poems of Jane Draycott
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WESTERNAYS
is when your car ends facing backwardson the wrong side of the road
when the wind beats your umbrella
till its insides all hang out
when the water takes your little boat
and spins it like a plate.
It’s like a song reversed, a church
constructed widershins
to face the falling sun, the day
next week or sometime soon
you’ll take a truth and twist it,
turn a child to face the wall
or force a man stark naked
to get down and lick the floor.
It’s the dream which has you driving
down exactly the wrong street
as you race to reach your boat
before it sails.
It’s the wind along the western quay,
the voices in its throat
the seaman on the closing doors,
the words you hear him shout
I\'ll wait. I\'ll wait all night
if need be. I can wait.
From: Poetry London
WESTERNAYS
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