Lawrence Hall
Dispatches
for the Colonial Office
The List is Death
There is said to be a list –
but whose?
Who wrote it? Where is it?
Where has it been?
On what teakwood desk does it
now repose
Around which names and lives
are negotiated
The matter is not that names
are being removed
But that your name might be
written in
Because your attitude has
been noticed
The hand that once shook
yours signs away your life
Someone pencils your name
upon The List
That’s your loyalty reward (you
won’t be missed)
Thoughts ‘n’ prayers as in
Two Corinthians
