Is it fair this child should spend the journey
in luxury? Milk-drunk, sprawled
in his mother’s lap, his mouth an ecstatic ‘o’
Not that I wish him to wake. All too soon
it will be plastic stirrers, cups,
tea of unreliable strength. Creamer.
Sleep, little one. Keep your ecstatic ‘o’,
your mother’s hot lap, all the way
to Glasgow, Linlithgow, Lesmahagow
Juliet Antill lives on the Isle of Mull. Her poems can be seen in New Writing Scotland (2018); Magma (Europe); The North and Antiphon.