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

Once I was a red
Vixen / by springing high
I got what I wanted.

Grey I am now: grey rain.
I have come as far as Greenland
In my heart.

On the coast a stone is shining.
On it is written: No one returns.
The stone foreshortens my life.

The four ends of the earth
Are filled with suffering. Love
Is like breaking your spine.

Love? And natural human faith
In inhuman institutions? And hope
For peace in this iron time / of
Technological know-how – of
Doubts, disputes, distractions,
Benumbing our souls? I wonder
Whether my broken-backed boss
Is still in his office – still
In tears. But now a not at all
Tearful Frau Kirsch / looking grim
And displeased / is ready
To read. The book-shop manager – looking
Nervous and ill-at-ease – explains
That Fr. Kirsch’s publisher / for private
And personal reasons / has been unable
To show up (all the way from
Stuttgart) / and it has therefore
Devolved upon his own unworthy
(= Unwilling) head to do the honours. One has
The impression / he has neglected
To read the actual books / of
The distinguished poet (= mythical
Monster) / scowling beside him. But
He’s got plenty for sale / as he
Disarmingly informs us. Also
Fr. Kirsch’s watercolours are
For sale. And he invites us
(Twice) to “admire” them / after
She’s read / from The Erlking’s
Daughter / which this unfriendly
Lady / now brusquely proceeds to
Do / by throwing
Her gleaming, colourful poems
Away / like seed-corn on a stony
Field / let them root or rot. Yet gradually
She begins to glow / or to lose herself
In those mysterious, angry, amusing,
Glinting words. But without a sign
Of condescension. And as for
Performance / the audience, bewitched
And entirely silent / straining to hear
Each accent / each pause /
Might just as well
Be entirely elsewhere. Or
Dead. Or a part of
Her art: