The Cartographer

He could draw

Anything once:

Peninsulas;

Archipelagoes;

Grassless, unsettled,

Jagged-edged islands;

Landlocked countries

Of cold latitudes,

Exposed like bricks

When empires fell.

Times and places

Close to the self-applauding heart.

Not any more.

Now he draws less,

And such features only

As memory in receding shows:

Pit-heads

And coal-veins;

Tributaries that fall short of rivers

That fall short of the sea;

The dots of broken

Cease-fire lines;

The yellows and reds

Of internal boundaries.