Wednesday, 14 April 2010

Three Lake District Poems 2

‘Do you know what they do as a punishment around here? They make you clean the mountains—absolutely clean.’

The rain, like swearing,
turns the air blue.

Thorn-trees’ barbedwire branches .
Mud-loaded sheep, dog-faced,
raincloud bodied.

Derwent Water's million-pixel
shawl pelt bristles with
a million upstanding hairs.

The trees are halfway through
pulling their tentacles from the soil
and wrigglingly wandering off.

The rain is corpsewash cold.
Those ravens look ravenous.

No comments: