A mutability of the natural world and mankind




The Wattle Room

The Bedspread of Natural History

A bee's lament.......



As the slant of the summer day falls

losing interest in

the wrinkled mouth of paddock

my thoughts are walking round the table

glimpsing fatigue

while fabric cross pollinates

dragging the granite earth

away from the delicate and accomplished stars

I imagine ticking soft shadows of air

with a coarse honeycomb gut and crumbling wings

whilst the forget me not lies awake

for an hour

persisting to remain as understudy

declaring and whispering

the sounds of warfare

How the skull of winter

is in favour to the wind

and where an exiled sock waits

to take up the flesh

and walk in a shoe again

A crinkled spark stoops

while fatigued of the vertical

is mocked by earths chill

and contemplates a toodle-oo

Curvature of drunken bee's

on this obliging landscape floor

are impregnated with the echoes

of surrogate goodbyes

And the muscle of the sky and earth

are long gone

while the malignant scent

of a flowering curtain

is all that remains

as a burden in the air.




©Genevieve Carroll All rights reserved