The Cartographer

He would draw
Anything once:
Peninsulas;
Archipelagoes;
Grassless, unsettled,
Jagged-edged islands;
Landlocked countries
Of cold latitudes,
Exposed like bricks
When empires fell.
Time and places
Close to the self-applauding heart.

Not any more.
Now he draws less,
And such features only
As memory in receding shows:
Pit-heads
And coal-veins;
Tributaries that fall short of rivers
That fall short of the sea;
The dots of broken
Cease-fire lines;
The yellow or red
Of internal boundaries.