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Yare Song

by Julia Webb
 

The river flows on
surges over and under me,
marsh lover, mud flipper
down amongst the groundlings,
moorhens, blue-lights,
sweet-shallow-mornings.

I am scaled and slithered:
strings of weed for hair,
dipping my shade-fingers
amongst bubbles and eddies,
spark-netted on the meanderings
of the mindís own river,

hearing the shadow-ghosts
of all those drowned girls: witches,
~dipped down deep amongst
the slippery tendrils,
swan-necked lovelies
warbling in the reeds    singing.



Norfolk Poems
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

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