Poetry

Russell Erwin: Two Poems

On hearing of the re-emergence of epilepsy in our family (for Grace)   From the little I know when it comes there is obliteration. Like the aftermath of any war, the land you were living in will be known no more, a new one you remake. There is nothing before its incarnation. It’s more an insurrection the body just doesn’t see coming: I remember a student, his head banging on a concrete floor, his schoolmates amused or frightened but paralysed as much as he —terror the mind has been lost, we most naked then in our crippling fear. Having it…

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