We went to the Imperial War Museum yesterday, which was my first visit. I was actually really interested by the pieces of shrapnel, feels like I’ve read that word so often in war histories and novels, Sassoon:
and then the British guns began
With heavy shrapnel bursting low, and ‘hows’
Whistling to cut the wire with blinding din.
the kneeling of a prayer on toughened knees
the rapping ring of cold calls who hang up
blundering, shuddering aftereffects of dreams
that linger like the raddled headache of a hangover
shedding rain with your hands, shielding
yourself in heavy downpours with a plastic bag
a shying horse staring you out across a fence
the propelling lift of waves taking you forwards
a chorus of harps, the scrape of a single chair.
Check out Cathy Byrant’s In the Louvre to see her not find the Mona Lisa but something better…