Wake up and walk /
Carry your injury with you
Wake up and walk /
Carry your injury with you
It is of no use to sit and weep
Clear the path for it winds
serpentine from stones to groves
Groves are small coves of tree in a
Black sea
There is no going back
There is no lying still in grief
The journey you are taking is already mapped
Wake up and walk now carry with you the scars
Your tears
Your newly dead,
Your emptied heart cup
Did the mirror rent
What of the spheres
The tongues of glass ?
The memory of a cloud
A shattering arm ...
Not unless it was of mercury
Body drags to the hill
Travel is not light nor is it easy
Mirror’s architrave told the story of a woman
Quitting her chariot to offer a heart-cup and
There are two on the path
Two will not look at her face
Crinoline /
A memory
The forest is waxing autumnal
My hem is wet-scooping burrs/
Trailing them noisily
To the low throat music of the thrush
A slow rook overpasses
I did not see the woman
Until she was upon me
Helping me up
She tapped my boot
She grabbed my elbow
I have gone over it again
and again/
Its always the same
Her eye so bright
As She glided away
I picked the twigs
From the frayed lace
Readied it again for stitching
I do not remember her face
from 'Grove'
I dared not look at the trees
Their pewters
Their ossified trunks
Their dark feathering
The inky black quills of them
I was caught there veil-lashed
In the place/not place
Where She stalks
This is not the covered corridor
Where once I heard a building’s low groaning
Where groin-vaults draw to the sky as curtains
Where the sense of others is a low murmur
There is not a shadow here
This is outside
Without weather
Tree as metal
Leaf as feather
Stones as big as man
And they sweat real tears
Willows stand grieved
Their blades lashing her face.
And proceed ?
'She' is available from Oneiros Books here
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