Finola Scott

 

 

 

Planes over Guernica
Lanzarote, Autumn  1937

The artist hides in a cave
doesn’t sketch bison hunts.
His feet crackle on black gravel,
rust red rock crowds his head.

He goes where lava sizzled into sea,
hauls strange fish from nooks, catches
scent of rosemary, scuffle of lizards.
A rabbit listens for stoats, a yellow butterfly
in a spider’s web.

He creeps like a cloud over
the blistered isle, sits in star dark,
tastes wind from Africa,
waits for Franco to finish.

 

 

 

Finola Scott‘s poems are widely published including in The Ofi Press, Clear Poetry, The Lake, Coast to Coast, And Other Poems. A slam winning granny she was delighted to read at Edinburgh Book Festival and Roslyn Chapel last summer.

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