TALKING ENGLISH

By Ben Bruges

The clanging animal carrier takes pig

to convert to pork, or maybe calf to veal.

We stand at the lychgate among nettles,

waiting for the road to clear, to resume

the deepening chatter of our writers’ circle 

among bright objects of memory.

On this same road Saxons—

all organic swirls and filigree—

railed against the Norman invasion:

the killing, theft of land and liberty;

for their despised French ways,

and their berserker Viking past—

violence amplified by entitlement,

might clothed in a body of learning.

The story became that ‘they’ invaded ‘us’

but ‘we’ British are also them, and Celts,

and every admixture since. Without the clash

there would be no English—pidgin developing

into creole into full language with maybe

the world’s greatest word-hoard. That division

is carved within us, plays out in myriad forms,

with a twist of the mace and incarceration,

part identity, part politics, surviving in class wars,

culture wars, coded in accent and etymology.

We gather around the table to share

objects, stories, ideas, dreams, poems,

in a language leavened by ancient conflict.

#darkpoetsclub