Trafika Europe 9/10 - UK in Europe

nine poems

I’d tasted the stolen fruit a taste that has never left my side on this day came her presence – like the fragments from a dream My sanctuary a bed of spitting wolves a sovereign placed in dust – where a shredded wedding dress hangs like a crucified shadow on these uncertain shores. She collected the snails from the road on Frenchay hill where the rain dragged them into drains over flowing with damp acorns; our time on this earth was so short only those guardians of light forbid our love.

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