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Poem by Fiona Sampsom, UK

The Last Man

after Mary Shelley

Comes barefoot
over shining
turf over
clover and grass
each shiny stem
and leaf white
with frost is it
morning it is
the first morning
comes walking
barefoot on grass
that bends and bends
under his feet
this is the rhythm
of prayer this
is how we always
knew it would be
bare feet in the bare
orchard
feet in ginnels
of the grass
is this how
it will be walking
through the frost
under bare trees
when you are alone?

FROM THE “POETRY WITHOUT BORDERS PROJECT” DIRECTED BY GERMAIN DROOGENBROODT

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