Lakenheath

It’s all top-secret and ever so strictly prohibited.
Making it a cert that this is where
Our heat-seeking darts have their arsenals.
This must be missile mission-control
- Where we go on raids from, with our allies -
It must be - where their stealthy wings

Steal into bunker-thick hangers at first light.
You can’t stop near its gates, wouldn’t
Really want to take a photo, even though
You could tell them you’re only a poet
Hoping to get a true-to-life but
Lyrical description of somewhere the size

Of a small county - bristling with hostility;
Fenced-in by razor-wire, shielded
From spooks, from crazies, but with a bright
Blue and red playground for toddlers
Within its compound. Here the sons and daughters
Of the military get to use the jungle gym

Which might be a target elsewhere, since the enemy
Are always doing that, burying weaponry beneath
Their slides and bouncy castles and so on. 
Everything’s guarded by gimlet binoculars here:
Perhaps we’ve stashed some gear
Beneath that brightly spotted toadstool fortress.

 

 

 


from Silent Highway (Anvil Press Publishing, 2014),  Anthony Howell 2014, used by permission of the author and publisher

Sponsor this poem

Would you like to sponsor this poem? Find out how here.

Recordings

Anthony Howell Downloads

1Silent Highway

£0.89

2Dancers in Daylight

£1.75

3Innisfree

£1.75

4Lakenheath

£1.75

5Penelope

£1.75

6The Setting

£1.75