in a hoar frost, she said:
the weather’s made a Miss Havisham’s wedding feast of this wood
the dark of bark and leaf is cobwebbed over
the hoar has clapped white hands over all those breathing mouths
the air nests whitely in the trees and waits like birds
like words
to be picked out of the white
and still the sky’s unmoving
and still the words freeze shapeless in the air
with so many sounds unlettered
with language paused before the thaw
with all the world now speechless
how can we mean as we did before?
by sea, she said:
crush me with your mother grip
your soothing groans unparticle
unatom & condense fossilise
me into thicker stuff than vapid self
puzzled skies nest here in rockpools
unsure what to reflect
Image credit: Camilla Nelson
