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Eddie's hands

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Watching a mirror of the past And the present in your colours Of brushed orange, daily reds, Lengthy black, chosen golds.

Defining the finds of Geevor,
Levant, across chimney heights
Clustering West Penwith,
Your brick red, arc orange,

Chanced gold, hurled black;
After, the gift of red oxide,
The jar of slime, growing
Into mine, tunnel, mist,

Seeing things from dust;
Stone, sky, double-decker;
Ocean, lighthouse, funnel,
Whole gold, long black,

Combed orange, edging red
Towards Eddie, giving over
His hands to your settling gaze:
Colours when he broke the rock

Transferring to your drawings,
Fistfuls of Geevor darkness, earth,
Out of his hands to your inky pace,
And blues and reds, his grizzly-man’s life
Swirls to sketches you outspread.

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