White slip of night at the shore,
And the fox-eyed pebbles wink at
The cold pearl moon. The freshwater stream,
Like silver silk
Heralds the flush of the waves, the bubbling spits
Of the shallows, stones like eyes, stones like saucers,
Like griddle cakes. There comes a woman,
Without a coat, silver-wax shoulders studded
With gooseflesh. She walks,
Toward the black water and the night-worms
Hear her singing, overhead her socked feet damp
And bottoms gritty,
A soft knitted invasion.
There is a country, far beyond the stars
Her red hat
Like a herring on a line sways with her
Narrow peg shoulders
And the sea
Is tar on her woollen toes.
Lois is a poet and student from England. She is studying the literature of the Romantics and hopes their values and innovations will filter through into her own work. She is working on longer projects at present…
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