Heaven’s Light Our Guide

By Tess Foley


All I did was fall straight down and out of love.

Could be when you maimed the lanes, more likely when I

Noticed upright sentries, every road with every turn,

On the Campbell, they barked my memory of a man of God

In the morning after shame.


Every drain cover a face routinely stared at

With regret the taste of bitten wood. In the rockless cradle

Hanging from the coast, I’m on the cusp of Netley sometimes

Napier and tint with irritation at the places I once fell asleep

In public, how dare you bulldoze them.


Your curves, tonight, look like they’ve been drawn

With clumsy, heartless hands, two of them on one unsharpened chalk.,

It’s quick to walk the Eastern when you’ve been chucked by witless,

Wonder what there’ll be here forty-five years time,

More seagulls that’s for sure.


All I did was fall straight down and out of love.

In to the arms of Festing and of Fawcett when the question

Was could I show my face, of course I could back here,

To you, with all your faults and your three open corners

And beaches with no sand, I can’t stay cross with you.