The Insurance Renewal
When I think what I survived
The plane bumping down in the lea of the mountain,
The car lights' plunge by the bike's spinning wheel,
Lying curled on the hard ground, counting
As thirteen horses rose over me.
As the last hoof, alone, brushed my shoulder -
Those whom the gods love, die young - I conclude
I shall live to be very much older,
I, who walked the lightless woods alone,
Hauled up ladders, ran over railway tracks,
With my two chipped teeth, my cracked collarbone,
Flinch from first frost, smooth each glove:
I watch the girls run, coatless, young,
Borne on the breath of that love.
If you've any comment on this poem, Alison Brackenbury would be pleased to hear from you.