Lochan
In the circle
of its trees
the lochan shines
midnight silk.
I could be a lily
printed on its sheen
but silt would fill my hair
if I floated
so I dip
only my body
as I swim
and when I scramble out
naked, every spike
of peach fuzz
is coated.
I am pelted like a deer.
Damaris West lives in south-west Scotland. Her poetry has appeared widely in magazines and anthologies and she has been placed in several national or international competitions. Her debut pamphlet is due to appear next year with Yaffle Press. damariswest.site123.me