It was an accident, when I first felt power,
The tingling fence in the farmer’s field at Kippford.
We all stood near, the sun like marmalade,
The cows nudging the clods of clay earth,
And all the while its hum chilled the air.
We stared and dared each other,
The guttural gags as the grey wire stung
And trembled from the strain of eight young arms.
Eyeing each other with cruel delight,
As we collapsed one by one by one.
Until I stood alone, bracing, jaw aching,
As if, like a sweet poison, the power
Had a claim in me, that no-one else knew,
And triumph felt like pain and pride, shaken.