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This poem is taken from Poetry Nation 4 Number 4, 1975.

Focus Germanus Peter Dent

I
'We never saw him after
the last weird dim battle.
There was often need.
Salisbury, Bedcanford, Dyrham and Catraeth.'
Mild images, pale and out of focus
as the Camel slipped by black and glossy.
'What shook us was how long it took him
for the healing of his wounds
                and ours.'

II
The plateau curves.
Woods grip the four defensive rings
          of ditch and bank.
Greenshade fastnesses.
Castelle to which he much resortid.

Moist turmoil of roots
that lock amphora sherd, bone slivers,
corroded metals flung from the camp.
...


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