Here’s a poem that I just wrote. (C) Becky Deans 2014

Place You

Let me run my finger tips
Down your Roman road
Lay my hands on
Your ironworks.

Feel your daisies prick
The back of my head. Celebrate
Every field, every disaster. I expect

To feel the ground fall away
From me. They call it a sinkhole.
I’m ready with my torch.