Ship Street

the castle sits on top
of streams and remains
buried deep in the solid
tracts of all that time
passed since founding

since walls formed
over forgotten gold and silver
running beneath us
in underground seams
another thing undiscovered

like the bore holes
and well shafts silted over
half driven into the world
our small communications
measured in torsion

our paw prints marked
on iron railings and steps
straightened up on exit
tunnels left to fold themselves
back into the earth

from Strasbourg (Salmon Poetry, 2010)

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