Well Versed is edited by Jody Porter
The ground beneath my feetJulie Hogg
where I found third position,for the first time, linguistics,rhymed, ran home in the dark.
Talk to me about our Marsh,Hepworth herons, yellowrattle, ore, mandarin ducks.
I scattered my maiden namealong a slowly quaking fleet,red-tides, Plover Street, Lady
Luck caravans, over sheetmetal chemical cocktail sands,real viridian fisherman’s huts.
I thought I was intransigent;in soul, yes Sir, thanks for thattiny morsel of reciprocity, now,
I want to tie myself to a track,in fissures, on pebbles, gravel,asphalt compassion and I’m
small screaming, stop, stop!But, you’re a driverless train,and you won’t stop, will you
Author’s note: This poem is written with fracking in mind, from the perspective of the land in Coatham, next to the blast furnace in Redcar. This is my hometown.
Julie Hogg is a poet widely published in magazines and anthologies, and has an MA in Creative Writing from Teesside University. Her debut collection, ‘Majuba Road,’ is available from Vane Women Press.
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