Prem.
Like that weird March morning in January,
the birds deceived, deceiving us in turn,
roots woken and stirred to thirst, you too
arrived early, to a world unsure
if this was sleep or dream, fitful in streams
of silver light, too cold and thin to swim,
town and country both beginning to believe
in spring, when twilight came, mantling.
Roy Marshall‘s poems have been accepted by The Rialto, Magma and The North among other publications. His pamphlet Gopagilla is published by Crystal Clear and was reveiwed by David Cooke for IS&T. He blogs at roymarshall.wordpress.com
Prem. first appeared on Bow Wow Shop