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Keith Bennett

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An Eskimo Dreams

Of a forest of white,
white men in white coats
waving their white hands about
and more than one wave
of white men, white women too,
stiffly white, like young trees
their white leaves shushing him asleep
with these white mares
as they white-lined the ground
completely white and the forest of white
held no shadow, no line between
tree and sky and no divining if they held
a white message in their white hands
that might have been a warning or
a blessing, whatever called him,
called him in white
and he could only see the white of the trees,
the trees of the forest that marched over him
and grew outwards and upwards
turning the air blue, the grass green
and whatever he had become
it gave its own colour to
coal black eyes, orange nose,
stone teeth, ice-cold feet,
snow man.

 

Page(s) 137

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