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Gill McEvoy

     
Airport.
 
The sinister eye of a camera
has winked and filed away my face
and the registration of my car.
 
My passport and my tickets have been
subjected to deep scrutiny;
my knickers, bras and sweaters
have all unfolded in my case,
relieved to be declared innocuous.
 
My coat and handbag have been X-rayed
and I have had my body screened;
airport police with frowns have kept
their itchy fingers on their guns,
ready to freeze us to the wall.
 
Now I’m walking down a corridor of eyes,
scared in case they strip my skin away,
leave my bare soul standing, naked
here for all the world to see.
 

 

 

 


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