01. From Odours of Carrot and Leek Soup

Thick as soup in the bowl of air
the stench of sheep’s head boiling in a pan
the day’s food for the dogs
embraces, as I step into the house
from a thin Winter’s day.

The brains, scooped out, are sizzling
with a chop and rashers on the hob
father’s morning meal.

He rose with the assembling light
to go with battered iron buckets
over and over the dung-stunk yard
into the squinting breath
of a steaming shippon
its rattling chains
carrying for ever the unalterable smell
of fish-meal, crushed barley grains
mangold slices, bitter and crisp.

I can see his dimming form
halting and moving through the unlit depth
as he knocked each portion of the mix
beneath a row of steady glaucous eyes
polished horns
and dribbling muzzles on their sweating heads.

And heavy in the stable’s moted light
docile horses
also in their chains
waited for the curry-comb
the dusty slap of his crusted hand

and in his throat
the low and rumbled tones of love

“Stand, Prince!”
“Beauty; Stand!”

crushed oats and molasses in the trough
a swadge of musty hay
still breathing in the rack.