Locked Away
Last night cloud came down like a weight
of feathers, whited out our little house.
I wheel you out to say good morning to the day.
As if to part the mist that curtains you from me,
you waggle useless hands. Soft as heartbeats I can hear
the steady weep of wet from vanished trees.
The world is locked away; no insects, birds.
Their absence haunts the day.
Our breath hangs on the milky air,
like words we’ll never say.
I push the body-shell from which the you has gone -
How long, how long can this go on?
Page(s) 51
magazine list
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- Lamport Court
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- North, The
- Oasis
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- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
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- Poetry London (1951)
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- Poetry Salzburg Review
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- Reach Poetry
- Review, The
- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
- Seventh Quarry, The
- Shearsman
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- South
- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
- Tolling Elves
- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
- Wolf, The
- Yellow Crane, The