Man with Pigs
My name was Legion, ha,
we were many, and
gashed our heads
on those gravestones.
Didn't know what we really wanted -
(lurching to greet the
True Man, as his fans called him,
and shouting at the same time:
- Such violence to my real self
(he told me);
such fear which tossed me
tomb to tomb.
... But since the pigs have drowned,
I limp towards my own cliff.
More poetry by James Charlton
Reviews of James Charlton's poetry
David Kelly, reviewing So Much Light
(and Stephen Edgar's History of the Day)