Boscawen-Un
You stop on the top wet
step and nearly slip
and all day catch flashes of that header from the hedge
onto black tarmac – skull reshattered by the driver
shouting no – and what they say back home: how you
climbed a milestone thinking it was a stile, not used
to charting your way from maps alone, consulting
a New York City novelty uptown/downtown
compass to navigate the ancient lanes of Penwith
plus a booklet of walks to pagan sites with occult
tips. And how they found a scrap of newsprint in the
front pocket of your daypack about a man who
jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge a second time.
© Helen Sandler
July 2004