5


Polly Harvey's voice
Water   Water
A rough old time

How can the senses in this come
Flooding in from beneath words
Successive images of nowhere
Unbearable signs of a lost happiness

A past junked like any other
But landscapes burn into the brain
Looking to lock the building grids

Edges matched to the etched traces left
Where what the voices said
Is locked away

That other green world
Outside a refuge really
Discovering just itself, unfolding
Innocent of that web

Haphazard and torn, but convincing
That made us realise who
And what we were there be
Neath