Poem
Ian Duhig
Croix-des-Bouquets, Haiti
Croix-des-Bouquets, Haiti
Croix-des-Bouquets, Haiti
Most were naked but for the locked tin maskswhich stop them sucking the cane they harvest.
We could see they had been made tigerish
by their whippings. Our sabres stuck in bone,
our saddle-girths were slashed by their children,
crones tore shot from the mouths of primed cannon
while our powder-monkeys fumbled and wept.
But we have laid them up in lavender.
They think their dead will wake in Africa.
© 1991, Ian Duhig
From: The Bradford Count
Publisher: Bloodaxe, Newcastle
From: The Bradford Count
Publisher: Bloodaxe, Newcastle
Ian Duhig
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1954)
Duhig is known as a modern balladeer, using folklore and medieval stories to satirise the contemporary scene. His poetry spans interpretations of medieval myths to verses on the humble string vest. Duhig has a keen metrical ear, often harnessing Irish songs, hymns, ballads and old French metre to a modern subject. His poetry is frequently funny, and Duhig is not averse to slipping in an anachro...
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Croix-des-Bouquets, Haiti
Most were naked but for the locked tin maskswhich stop them sucking the cane they harvest.
We could see they had been made tigerish
by their whippings. Our sabres stuck in bone,
our saddle-girths were slashed by their children,
crones tore shot from the mouths of primed cannon
while our powder-monkeys fumbled and wept.
But we have laid them up in lavender.
They think their dead will wake in Africa.
From: The Bradford Count
Croix-des-Bouquets, Haiti
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