Primavera
There is perfume on the table Federica,
Flowers, pressed and in the letter
There is an offer of marriage – the letter is red.
There is only the fountain, Federica,
Only water, gushing out hymns; it remits
The babies I hold in my mittens, their moons – the letter is red
There are Archangels in October leaves, Federica
In Eugene gardens, softer than the soft of softness
There is an offer of marriage – from me – the letter is red
Listen Federica, spring is pealing the leaflets – the juniper’s blue
Shadow in kisses of peace. The gusts shut out gusts
Over wuthering heights, the matchstick strikes – the letter is red
Our honey feet collide, each age an infant
Say yes – Federica – the letter is red – say yes.
Charlie Baylis lives and works in Nottingham. He reviews poetry for Stride. His own creative writing has most recently appeared in Stride, Agave and Litro, he has been shortlisted for the Bridport Prize (UK) and nominated for a Pushcart Prizes (US)