Primrose Hill
I open the light door, its latched
hoist swings away to drop
in pools your hand clasps they slip
into the pool glow
a dredger coughs upriver
cormorant angles to Pythagorean glitter
the conic section my grandmother lathed
to perfect yellow-canary coloured gas
sips as night flaws refract, spark a prescience
the hill was drumlin before the staves were driven
blue liass ball clay a moody circumspection
trickles like a hidden riverine the dank sealed courses plunge
brimless borromless depthlessaly watering
exiguous sediments gather, it is the sobriety
as a corpse sucks free from emboguement
slides and is the soiled parcel, the bleat of newborn
circles the mastery
the achievement of water, as a fish-scales light gilled,
water climbed as its net
threshes, alive upstream to spawn.
Colin Honnor has been widely published poet in numerous magazines in print and online. Collections, mostly from small presses and private presses include From Underground (Mirabilis 1986); Dante; Cavafy; The Somme; (Yew Tree Press). English Poetry is published by the University Press of America. A former editor of Poetry and Audience, he runs a fine arts press in the Cotswolds.