ChatterBank1 min ago
Reading A Baby's Bottom
3 Answers
I thought sqad, (or anybody) might like this poem, it's by Iain Bamforth, retired doctor, good poet & general polymath. Early in his career as a doctor he spent 5 years in the Philippines & Indonesia as a health consultant. It's from a book of his poems called 'The Crossing Fee' (Carcanet)
Primal Unction
On a flight to one of the destitute islands of the Mindanao coast
my reader’s hands were blackened by the fate
of the latest typhoon victims. In these ancient secular prayer-sheets
war spills only ink, and op-eds rehearse their indignation
between Wall Street and the sports pages
In the poorer parts of Philippines, the dailies are used as surgical drapes.
Dried in the pantry to a degree below spontaneous combustion,
the murmur of disasters and good cheer stories
is tethered with clamps and folded, neatly, round the sterile area.
Necessity is the mother of invention. Who’s the father?
When Jejomar Flores was dandled by the midwife as he came up for air
the sodden front page of the Philippine Star
had stuck to his back. A spill of amnniotic fluid had contrived
to render its banner ‘TRUTH SHALL PREVAIL’
partly visible, in reverse blocktype, across his buttocks.
We applauded his entry into the atmosphere, his call for help.
Truly this child was an infant of semiotics.
Primal Unction
On a flight to one of the destitute islands of the Mindanao coast
my reader’s hands were blackened by the fate
of the latest typhoon victims. In these ancient secular prayer-sheets
war spills only ink, and op-eds rehearse their indignation
between Wall Street and the sports pages
In the poorer parts of Philippines, the dailies are used as surgical drapes.
Dried in the pantry to a degree below spontaneous combustion,
the murmur of disasters and good cheer stories
is tethered with clamps and folded, neatly, round the sterile area.
Necessity is the mother of invention. Who’s the father?
When Jejomar Flores was dandled by the midwife as he came up for air
the sodden front page of the Philippine Star
had stuck to his back. A spill of amnniotic fluid had contrived
to render its banner ‘TRUTH SHALL PREVAIL’
partly visible, in reverse blocktype, across his buttocks.
We applauded his entry into the atmosphere, his call for help.
Truly this child was an infant of semiotics.
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