Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Poetry Library Southbank Centre - The Poetry Library housing the Arts Council Collection at Southbank Centre

« Previous item
Contents of this issue
Next item »

Rachel Nicholson

print this page

Facing

Facing away, down, crouching,
Pressing my palms to the rain-damp ground,
Waiting for evening, I feel a tremor:
Something travelling.

Later, walking by water,
Stopping to sit, I bend my face
Over the surface, brilliant still,
Blank as a cloud.

With my shadow, breaking a hole
Into the white, I glimpse a fish,
Shy of the light, silver-sequinned,
Restless fins.

Later, watching the sea,
I feel the moon creep up behind,
Utterly silent, soft as a finger
Dusting my spine.

Then, let the tide roll in
With broken seams, spilling its fish,
Showing its flesh, fins and tails;
I watch it swim.

Light-blind, mute as touch,
These fish are ears,
(Hear too much),
Yet they are fragile,
Water-walled, afraid of breathing.

Strong in numbers, so in tides,
They push their meaning:
‘Face the moon’, they seem to say,
‘We feel it smile.’

 

Page(s) 23

Back to top