Friday, 3 December 2010

Claire Crowther's Mollicle, second selection

What Else Can I Do?

Examine yourself, river.
Wind, you have collapsed
from your adrenalin rush.
Sun, you've flooded the vertical,
splashing reeds and palming
planes. Damaged oak,
you have no heart or gut,
your only organ, skin.
I cling to you tighter
than a striped-shell snail
to a fennel stalk.

Claire Crowther

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