From the Palaeolithic

dawn frost    the heating on
and condensation already formed on the kitchen`s inside glass
beginning to slide   trickle in loops
spirals   spurs   wriggling forest vines   and a figure
between branches   climbing out   coming through
hauling himself forward into a clearing

I`ve seen him before   imagined him
one of the first coming into Europe
out of the east following rivers and sunsets
climbing a peak of rocks above the Danube

he stands in the dripping pane looking around him
testing the view where rafts are working upstream

generations after him will reach ice
will they survive the ferocities of the tundra?
he is one of the first sons of the mother who is our mother
he will never be rich   never be poor

through him   behind him   my garden
beginning to shine   an apple tree where a wren flits

how far will his thoughts carry him?
in his domed skull are all the tools he`ll need
to survive in paradise and demolish it
come no further   I ought to say    go back!

he faces me   between pathways of water
will he begin to melt when the frost melts?
he is disfiguring now in the heat of the kitchen

divers reaching a deep recess will find his skull
scattered among bones of cave bears