Mr Stuart in Aswan.(Poem)

 
MR STUART IN ASWAN 
Remembrance Sunday, 2004 
 
   We stepped out on thin ice, then back, without 
   blinking an eye. It was a dream, I'm sure, 
   those two years married up the Nile, so hot 
   and poor, so hard on lovers. Sky is pure 
   lazulite today, our thermometer 
   reads minus and the lawn is wreathed in white: 
   a flickering cartouche "has this report ..." 
 
   But you are back there, where Pythagorean 
   sails still catch the pharaohs' breath and Nile 
   keeps peace with Kitchener, the Aga Khan's 
   white dome with iron hills. Our life here pales 
   beside it all, a fertile strip that peels 
   to western desert, tired tracks of a viper, 
   a ...