Another dry summer
The garden hose lies out
all day. Each night I water
flowers whose anonymity, colour,
character and short, short life I respect.

Another dry summer in Africa
Sad children die of cholera,
a name we have exported with the
automatic rifle and the tank.
Their remote lives, unwatered, wither.
Ammunition blooms on the ground at their feet.

Ellingham
28.7.93