Portrait of the late Mrs Partridge
I inhabit the rough drawings of numberless wild places
which camouflage my handsome
brindle rougey linen plumage
and faintly jewelled russet feather boa
My chestnut hair is blown upwards
like whirring flames taking flight from brittle ferns
pale grasses and unmothered leaves
as though magnetised towards the sun
I avoid high flashy places and menace from the sky
so sleep motionless in round hollows
scraped smoothly in saturated earth
Away from scent hounds and mathematical problems
my spirit soars reckless unskinned from flesh
Dreaming of soft blue naked forest rivers and silver mountains
whose composition asserts itself under an oily brush
I sang for a mate at nightfall
Deborah Sibbald lives, works and writes in London and has recently begun to submit some of her work. She recently completed an online UEA/ NCW course with Helen Ivory.