Go Between (50 billion)

I met one of your teachers
just the other day –

the one with the name
like gosling –

soft feathers of baby birds,
corsage worn by bride or girl –

Mr Gossage,
showed me to the room –

where we were taught,
asked me how our mother was –

said he’d kept
the paper that you wrote

for years and years
until –

it fell apart.

He’d always thought you’d
work in Academia –

so I told him –

about your education,
your Oxford Don and

Doctorate winning thesis
something to do with

literary criticism
and Walter de la Mare.

You should know:

they hold your face,
somewhere safe in slanting boards –

a young man –
with a pipe,

a jacket patched with corduroy.

Your teacher said
he’d never known such a writer –

fifteen years – and already a rival.
Tell me about it –

I said

and told him that
you’d never smoked.