by Seth Crook
One day I ran into the limit of my language.
How are you?, I asked.
“Fine. I suppose you want to stand on me
and have a look?”
“Now you mention it.”
I gently stood on the limit and looked,
as if surveying,
from the lighthouse signal point on Erraid,
all the islets stretching out to the Corran Rocks.
“How is it?”, the limit asked.
“What is there?”
“I just don’t have the words to say.”
“Er, well, there was, er, well, interesting stuff.”
I heard laughter from below.
“Is that a description? Because if it is,
I am not your limit and you should try my brother
“It’s not a very revealing description”, I insisted.
“I don’t make the rules, mate. Move along.”