Tapestries the glass arc of the sun turned to lantern-dark laburnum trees stilled to extrinsic night-drawn statues threads of flames, an oil afterglow, shoals of infinite tapestries
here is what I remember: a cloak, the sound of the waves,
mother fox, blue wool, coral, snow, pulse, wild rivers where space floods out – succumbs in one flash of hawk's eye, spectrolite, old royal, an entirety of universes haemorrhaging to strings, recursions I am stitched, consumed by your beauty, my womb – a single miracle
Louise Mather is a writer from Northern England and founding editor of Acropolis Journal. A finalist in the Streetcake Poetry Prize, her work is published in The North, Broken Sleep Books, Acumen and Cape Magazine. Her debut pamphlet ‘The Dredging of Rituals’ was published in 2021.
Twitter @lm2020uk IG: louise.mather.uk https://louisematheruk.wixsite.com/louisemather