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