A new poem by Terry Jones.

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At a day miles an hour
at a wood-wink
hills breathed themselves in
the field shut its ears

weak as you were
hospital-gowned like an owl
I bet you stood up
night’s wings hitting the window

no record yet
of how darkness flares
when you lifted off the tree of your life
I was looking the wrong way

Terry Jones’s first collection, “Furious Resonance”, is published by Poetry Salzburg

This article appears in the 15 February 2019 issue of the New Statesman, The revolution that fuelled radical Islam

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