Beneath the skin a poison
An irritation, not life threatening
Yet a disruption nevertheless
That also spreads to others
The urge to scratch is withheld
A similar dissatisfaction
That I imagine for a hunger striker
Within the confines of a prison cell
Yesterday we visited the vast water
From the balcony at Amiera near Alqueva
We looked out on our own Lake Isle of Innisfree
But to live here, how am I able to contemplate
When my mind is focussed on the bite
Rather than on the refreshed vine plantations
Irrigated by the man-made dam that also powers
This sparsely populated, but firmly historical region
This poem is from the collection
