Poetry Map of Scotland poem no. 85: Loch Lomond

Independence

Mrs Lomond lifts up her skirts
an walks ben the hoose, intent
oan a hike aroon the loch
thinking tae catch that man mountain
birlin wi some young Munro
while her knees gave her gyp
‘Oh, the torture.’

In aw the years, he’d grown
intae a hardman
against her pudding-shaped
hump in the bed
an noo he prefers tae stride oot
wi his like, leavin her
tae flower n faw
‘Jist cry me Camelia,’ she shouts.

Well she strips the skirts
an trudges roon the ranges
eatin fae the land – nae bread
nae white stuff at aw
an she swims that loch
back an furrit, up an doon
tae the watter soothes her weight.
‘The maid is back.’

Her words sing up the mountain
she’s herself again
wi her hair trailin behind her
an the dark cauld winkin at the sun.
He looms o’er the loch
his peak mirrored
at her feet and she dives
intae the perfect image.
‘Consider that a divorce’ she says.

Irene Cunningham

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