Marc Woodward

 

 

 

Snipe

Her wet eyes were green as fenland water.
The twelfth day of August and she could hide
alongside you in her crypsis of hair
until it seemed that you might step on her –

then she’d be gone in a clatter of pans,
a flap of arms, a fluster of car keys.
I recall her whisper though, even now,
when she told me in her own thesaurus

how rain falls, how leaves fall, how there must be
a reckoning and some great final count.
Poor at consolation I took to maths
and numbered all the times I made her cry.

 

 

 

Marc Woodward is a musician and poet living in rural Devon. He has been widely published and his recent chapbook A Fright of Jays is available from Maquette Press. A full collection written in collaboration with well known poet Andy Brown is due out soon.

Comments are closed.