There’s Scotland over there

and me here on the other side of the globe
fretting fir hame.

Scotland still comes to me in the tidal flow
of news reports
the heaving and subsiding of political debate
that washes against
the edges of here, washes through me leaving
tangles of there.

It comes to me in Facebook updates
full of words
that get underlined in red if I speak them here:
dreich, scunnered, stushie.
It comes via Skype in time-delayed voices
and glitching images.

Sometimes Scotland comes to me in a dream
a wee red balloon
tugging at the end of a frayed string held in the fist
of a chubby-faced
public schoolboy whose blazer pockets bulge
with stolen lunch money.

Scotland’s changing
without me. I’m changing
without Scotland.
How are we
ever to ken
each other again?

Neither the high road nor the low road
is visible from here.



Alison Flett was born and bred in Scotland but is currently living in Australia. Her poetry collection, Whit Lassyz Ur Inty (Thirsty Books) was shortlisted for the Saltire First Book of the Year Award. In 2014 she was shortlisted for the Australian Whitmore Press Manuscript Award. She has just been awarded an ArtsSA grant to work on a new poetry collection exploring the nature of home and belonging.


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