Giles Watson's poetry and prose
Gates
Gates
Why build gates? Do we think
we are chaining something
out, or something in? Rust
brings reason to them; winter
tests their welding. Let’s
face it: they sag open, like
unsutured wounds. Their struts
hang like shards of crumbling
structures: which they are.
I’d like to build a gate before
my knowing. That would bar
the way, and half-disrupt
my going. There would be
no shame in bodgy building:
the worst would be redeemed
by rust and bleeding.
Poem by Giles Watson, 2012.
Gates
Gates
Why build gates? Do we think
we are chaining something
out, or something in? Rust
brings reason to them; winter
tests their welding. Let’s
face it: they sag open, like
unsutured wounds. Their struts
hang like shards of crumbling
structures: which they are.
I’d like to build a gate before
my knowing. That would bar
the way, and half-disrupt
my going. There would be
no shame in bodgy building:
the worst would be redeemed
by rust and bleeding.
Poem by Giles Watson, 2012.