Among vetch and dandelions,
hollow shells, inhabitants gorged
by blackbirds whose songs tremble
in summer’s heat, you emerge -
wrap around my calves, bind
my arms, entwine my throat, caress
my neck, my ears – insidious
as haar that creeps in from the sea
to steal the sun. Overhead, siren
insistence of oystercatchers, while
beneath the hawthorn bush
a magpie tilts its head. Across
years and continents,
we cannot decohere.
Marian Christie was born in Zimbabwe and travelled widely before settling in her current home in Kent. When not writing or reading poetry, she looks at the stars, puzzles over the laws of physics, listens to birdsong and crochets. Recent work has appeared in The Amethyst Review, 192 Magazine, The Fib Review, Pushing out the Boat and The Journal of Humanistic Mathematics. Marian blogs at www.marianchristiepoetry.net and can be found on Twitter @marian_v_o.