‘where the surname was first noted’
It is a hopeful name to be born to.
It promises Spring; it sings of pickings
from a lost family orchard, an Eden
on Severn banks, a fruit that is ripe
yet always green. Hold it to your cheek
for the faint enigma. Lick it, your tongue
buds an estuary. Cast, it will bob
the equinox deep into English
etymologies: grig and girn and groin...
Watch it running on a playing field
with others of the inner city, picked on,
nicknamed, yellowed to a cartoon brat.
Or beneath the hundred thousand crosses
left by men who could never spell
themselves, imagine it grinning from their skulls
or groaning in the pelvic bones of women
who bore it, a surge from this serpent bend
of the river into every green corner.