Andrew Johnston
Splinters
For William Johnston, born William Coutts, Brechin, Scotland, 1865
Born, at least.
A little light
in the east.
What was registered
is legible —
Braik’s Close —
the light
breaks close.
What the records
said. A little
light
about your head.
º
Jean,
her mark,
at the
paper mill:
acres of paper —
imagine her face —
acres she tills
and leaves
no
trace.
º
That streak natured
or nurtured —
a little sorrow
handed down —
bother in Angus
and anger and sadness —
it stows away
and is stowed away —
a branch broken
in Brechin.
º
The field I think slopes slightly
and the man who stands there
holds himself upright —
it is an act of will
against all to which
he might be inclined —
life lived as a slight —
instead of this the light.
º
Force the door with
this, his certificate —
that he raised himself
into the furrow that runs,
as I think of it,
across his brow.