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This week, something from a northern English poet whose footsteps have at times crossed with mine (she's lived in Hull and in Manchester at the same time as me), though we've never actually met. Her debut collection is available here.
Grey Natural Light
Grey Natural Light
It breaks through voile and stains
like tannin leaching into a cup;
(the voile bunched like tissue-paper
strewn by an elephant).
Carbon filters into rooms
invisibly, on the back of the world’s breath.
Dioxide. It is not unexpected.
Nor is it hindered; almost every car
trails ashes down the road’s long
crawl of grau, grau, grau. Not much
today it seems will grow but we may dig
for graphite, paint elephants in the sky azure.
