My life as an onion

dry skins for compost
layers of meaning
rings of time
faster than a tree
cut me and you’ll cry
learn layer by layer
love is at the heart of things
even as the compost feeds the future
a life without tears

 

Silian Road, Ceredigion

Horse in mud where two lanes meet,
five kites play overhead;
line of trees to a platform, and I see
milk churns for market, ghosts
back from the front, a route
to my door from
before the car. Nostalgia
draped in an anorak,
mud of then on my boots
in a wet field far from home.

 

Minsmere in March

and they ask me
where have you come from,
where are you going?

I am going to the marsh all week
to dig drains, mend fences
do what I have to do

to keep avocets happy,
make a home fit for spoonbills,
but they mean

are you a student
what was it like, your breakdown,
what did your father say?

Marsh harrier does not care;
bittern has not been seen yet,
maybe after I am back

on dry land, with a career path
my parents can impress on
their friends.

I dig drains, mend fences,
bury fear of failure
in the Suffolk mud.

(Aziz wrote Minsmere in March in a poetry workshop with Ann and Peter Sansom)

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Aziz Dixon’s poetry collection Because of the War is published by Maytree Press and is available here.

Find out more about Aziz on our Contributors’ Page.

 

 

 

(Photo: Marco Verch Professional Photographer/flickr.com/ CC BY 2.0)

Aziz Dixon
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