Merryn Williams
Drowning the Book
I’d got the famous book.
Any ordinary-seeming person
I saw, could be a spy.
I went on the run, with it
fastened under my jacket.
Then there was a full-scale hunt.
I rushed through an empty house,
luxuriously-furnished rooms
with Christmas decorations.
Alarms began to shrill.
There were lives depending on this.
The book had got to be drowned.
Across the snowy garden -
leaving a trail - towards
the lake (which, I was sure,
had secrets of its own).
A gasp ahead of my
pursuers, I hurled it from me.
How many people have prayed
for the ice not to crack? This time
it didn’t. The heavy book
descended like a stone
and stuck. The pursuers were on
my heels. It could not be drowned.
Page(s) 45
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