Two Poems

Poetry ~ Richard Skinner
​

​The Strata Building
 
Every window in the block
has a hooded figure in it,
maybe an anorak on a hanger,
or a jacket on a hatstand.
Or just people standing,
staring out over the city at night.
It’s difficult to tell
from this distance.
 
Millions of people come through here.
People of every colour,
all hooded, voiceless.
They made it from some distant shore,
up the beach, over
a bridge and onto a road,
where they start to walk.
They start to walk faster and faster,
then they are running.
I’ve heard that people run all the time
in the north country.
 
But the people here
are not at war.
They only stand and stare
out the windows of their block.
Perhaps they are ghosts.
The hungry ghosts
of all those who didn’t make it
and never will.
 
I want to reach out and touch them,
to lay my hands on their chest,
to energise their heart.
I cannot give them anything they need.
I cannot give them more life,
just leprosy.
Their hoods might turn into cowls
for the dead, which we remove
before placing in trucks,
which drive all night
to the north country.
 
I want to reach out and touch them,
to lay my hands on their chest,
to energise their heart, turn
the distance they have covered
into something more
than standing at a window
staring out over the city at night.
I want to see the truth in their hearts,
which I know will be there.
I want to see the whites of their eyes
before I make a promise.

~
 
Their Heads Are Green and Their Hands Are Blue
 
So, it is time to leave. Stay in groups,
pairs at least,
do not wander off alone.
If you must go your own way, make sure you have a horn
and a net. Do not worry about the noises
coming from the bushes to the side.
Keep your eyes ahead, one drop of fear
and they will strike. Steer by the stars but,
remember, when the water flows the other way,
the stars have turned upside down.
You are lucky if you see the goldsmoke.
You will have sage on your hands, to heal,
and wind at your feet, to fly.
When they speak a language you do not know,
you are safe,
but only for a few days. Do not stay
for they will think you are real. Stand up,
make the sign,
be ready to go. The time is now;
in the distance lies the future.
There is so much space ahead of you,
so much dark land.
​

​Richard Skinner’s poetry first appeared in the Faber anthology First Pressings (1998) and since then in anthologies for William Blake, John Berger, CALM and Médicines Sans Frontières. He has published three books of poems with Smokestack: ‘the light user scheme’ (2013), ‘Terrace’ (2015) & ‘The Malvern Aviator’ (2018). His next book, ‘Invisible Sun’, will be published by Smokestack in February 2021.

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