An England poem by Grace Nichols

Outward from Hull

The gulls of Hull
the train pulling out -
a metallic snake
along the estuary
leaving behind
the forceful ghost
of Wilberforce
the confluence
of the Hull and the Humber.
Brough, Selby, Doncaster.
how many times
have I sat this way, England,
gazing out at the leafless
names of trees, at cathedrals
I still haven't seen -
our inter-city boa pushing
through the deepening night -
the wet black roots
of the country.
Suddenly, for some
unearthly reason,
it falters, then stops -
an inexplicable
paralysis of rhythm -
the broach of a small town
gleaming in the distance -
the eels and eels
of branching tracks.

O England -
provincial as Larkin
omnivorous as Shakespeare.

Grace Nichols


I really like the imagery in this poem - the snake is a great metaphor for the train. I have posted this here rather than bring copies to the class. Grace Nichols was born in 1950 in Guyana and now lives in England. Her debut collection, I is a Long-memoried woman won the Commonwealth Poetry prize in 1983.