Its gravity that makes it work
and, in the end, gravity that
does it in.
look! vicious archer slits
to pierce the teeming
ghosts below
and how smoothed are
the sticking out bits
they live these stones I walk
between, elephant grey
they
blind-stumbled in jumbled
force labour line
slighted, razed and randomised
by order of puffing Parliament
but
like patient ants, it was
gravity did the work,
with tea breaks in between
the click of hammers
discussions, about how comely
a passing woman's breasts
might seem, and so, out of these
time-jealous stones now
comes the truth about us
(cross-bearers to a man)
they, the silent witnesses
of what can't be undone
the list goes on and on
but the castle still groans
with all its weight
and bears down
to make earths'centre
give it time-
nothing here in stone
ever is too late
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem