Day 22
Best Friends : Clare Phillips
I knew I was hers, for me
it was about the farm, borrowing
her Mum’s wellies to slurp frogs eggs
into jamjars, runs built for newts
out of lego.
It wasn’t being paired off
on the twin, tweed seat
of a coach to Wales
for the school adventure
tickling necks and touching knees
or later, watching
her plait
become a kinked shawl
like unpicked knitting
her whispered suggestion
to share the top bunk
swap our secrets.
I knew then she wasn’t
my best friend, never could be
but we were all in love with something
the imago pushing to be born, spawn
soon to be tadpoles, tiny frogs
another week, even a day
might do it.
Flood plain : Carolyn Yates
Today water is locked icy tight, and that band of geese is calling raucous greetings to a white sky.
This bruised land-water freezes into crystals beads, breaks like shot under the dog’s paws.
But yesterday, yesterday was different. Yesterday water threw itself down mountains, shrieked, rolled, tumbled out to wider plains. Yesterday the raging earth spewed up animals, carpets, sofas, all tossed to sea.
Silky water coaxed earth to desert the land, gulls cried like drowning babies.
Sublimated meIt-water ran new rivers across our hearts.
Today the seer predicts flood defences will fall.
Make A Comment
Comments (0)