Diane Mulholland




Under Putney Bridge

The tide is out and I take the stone steps down into the mud.
The air is quiet here and damp walls
grow around me, over and below, arching grey.
There are ducks. And the weed has been neatly combed
by the river’s see-you-later.

I imagine I’ve drifted through a forest canopy,
emerging into stillness. There’s
none of the dust and bustle of the other side.
If I listen, I can catch a glimpse of horns and hustle
and the voices of monkeys in the trees.
But they don’t join me here. Only the birds
know how to break the membrane and live
in both places.

Each step is drier as I climb
back to my own world. Rocks give way
to flatter stones, the chatter and clutter
of the city overtakes me, and the mud
dries and crumbles from my shoes.



Born and raised in Australia, Diane Mulholland now lives in London where she spends as much time as she can watching the river. Find her on twitter @dianemulholland.

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