Monday, 7 June 2010



I hold fate -
the embrace or slap
the tender touch and painful poke.
I guide the pen that writes
the peace treaty
the cheque that buys guns
the poem of love
the poison of libel.

I grip the hand of a troubled friend
or push the back of foe.
I have what I hold
or give what I have,
retain or release.

I am the forked tongue
of a snake
in the grass
of everyday.
I leave guilty prints
in each life I touch.