Borderlines

Michael Saunderson

 

1972 EAST

 

Harvesting rice near the borderline,

sedentary spine smarts from paddy field graft.

 

Sore calloused hands gesticulate

in cultural exchange over cabbage bowls.

 

Borderline conscious counting stars,

trapping words in haiku that daybreak may recall. 

 

Shouts echo round the valley, tumble down 

terrace walls, stand as masked raiders, smell of aggression.

 

Gunshots blister the village peace,

companions pitch over, blood clots the fields.

 

 

1982 NORTH EAST

 

Tent pitched in

the Borders. Borderline

 

conscious, breathing last

night’s smoky damp

 

embers. Cold stream

wash. A shout

 

of agony barks

in the silence.

 

One leg sliced

on barbed wire.

 

Blood stained stream,

memories forked over

 

then nausea. Only

borderline over it.

 


Michael Saunderson works as an IT Manager in a large engineering company. A regular at open mic events in South Warwickshire where he lives performing sensory, descriptive poetry that is vivid and evocative.