He landed [dondurucu]
under a northern star
on Kent’s stones/ Glib
shingle hindered him –

a slow-toddled walk on
this ever-algae’d land –
[his arrival was met by
many ill-faste lanyards]

He will aim to win grith
by his time-kept faith –
& until then be bedded
‘neath a low flight path

into LHR in a box room
[three-in-a-bed etcetera –
& narrowed bandwidth
of internet connections]

He cannot sleep easily
on his smarting wings
[sprouted after battles
against parochial sins]

& too soon he is re-set
[his crown to his chest]
& beseeches for return
to his disposed mess –

before England called –
Georgius finds warmth
bled under his donated
Red Cross coat – armed

with prayers to one God
& truth to himself [Beni
eve götür] Tran/ Take me
home? Let Georgius loose

to save his own – let this
stolen Saint return to his
land – still unassimilated/
Efface him – not a tattoo