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Entanglement by Marian Christie


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 and can be found on Twitter @marian_v_o.


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