"Last Post" by Carol Ann Duffy

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, 
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

Foreign

By Carol Ann Duffy

   	Imagine living in a strange, dark city for twenty years.

5

     	There are some dismal dwellings on the east side

     	and one of them is yours. On the landing, you hear

     	your foreign accent echo down the stairs. You think

5   	in a language of your own and talk in theirs.

10

     	Then you are writing home. The voice in your head

     	recites the letter in a local dialect; behind that

     	is the sound of your mother singing to you,

     	all that time ago, and now you do not know

10 	why your eyes are watering and what's the word for this.

15

     	You use the public transport. Work. Sleep. Imagine one night

     	you saw a name for yourself sprayed in red

     	against a brick wall. A hate name. Red like blood.

     	It is snowing on the streets, under the neon lights,

20

15 	as if this place were coming to bits before your eyes.

     	And in the delicatessen, from time to time, the coins

     	in your palm will not translate. Inarticulate,

    	 because this is not home, you point at fruit. Imagine

25

     	that one of you says Me not know what these people mean.

20 	It like they only go to bed and dream. Imagine that.