White Chalk

White chalk hills are all I've known

White chalk hills will rot my bones

White chalk sticking to my shoes

White chalk playing as a child with you

White chalk south against time

White chalk cutting down the sea at Lyme

I walk the valleys by the Cerne

On a path cut fifteen hundred years ago

And I know these chalk hills will rot my bones

Dorset’s cliffs meet at the sea

Where I walked, our unborn child in me

White chalk, gorse-scattered land

Scratch my palms – there's blood on my hands