Untitled

 

The Fernery

 

Scales of glass,

a crest of frilled iron,

his baby

tucked deep in shrubbery

 

could stagger up

on stiff metal limbs

as pier

crystal palace

railway station,

steam  oil  sweat

on its green breath,

mouth a cave.

 

Pure folly,

this sunken factory

of spores

and fronds.

She has to keep the statues

scrubbed,

her and her bad legs.

 

 

 

 

Dot Cobley has been published in numerous anthologies and magazines, including Smiths Knoll. Rialto and The SHOp.  Having collaborated with artists on various projects, she has decided to try combining her own artwork and poetry…

 

Note: The poem The Fernery was first published in Seam.