David Selzer is a writer of poetry, prose fiction, screenplays and stage plays. He embraces digital platforms to share his work of more than fifty years… READ MORE


  • 1746

    The prisoners were dispersed across the north,

    being too numerous for one assize –

    many had followers, women and children:

    a lost cause’s collateral damage.

     

    An unrecorded number – of both rebels

    and dependents – was held on the heath

    a quarter of a mile due west of here

    where I am researching and typing.

     

    They wintered among the gorse and the heather.

    Maybe there were tents, or perhaps bivouacs,

    certainly for the guards. There was fresh water

    from two meres – since filled in, and built on.

     

    Some will have died in the snow and the rain

    awaiting trial. Others, in the long nights,

    will have absconded, desperate for the Spring,

    and to see their own heathlands flower.

     

     

     

     



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